


I Never Thought

by ValentineHunter



Category: The Last of Us (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Discussions of Infertility, Ellie and Dina kind of are together at first, F/M, Fluff, Frustration, I Don't Even Know, In more ways than one, Joel Is hard, Joel has daddy issues, Joel is a complicated man, Joel is a dom, Kidnapping, Mutual Pining, Normal violence, Slow Burn, Smut, Tag As I Go, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trauma, but Ellie eventually dates cat as part of cannon, discussions of trauma, helping each other with trauma, its sweet tho, its worth it, its worth it though, meaning he is too protective of reader, not knowing how to communicate properly, really dirty smut, that's obvious, this fic does not follow social constructs for relationships at all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 55,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29037534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValentineHunter/pseuds/ValentineHunter
Summary: Loss. Pain. Anger.These were the things that were customary of the world. One bled into the other like dominoes and overtook your entire being. And to you, these were the things to be avoided. You didn’t do friendships anymore. You didn’t do relationships anymore. You didn’t do people anymore. And all of this kept the loss and the pain and the anger away.It was foolproof. It worked. You were sure it would work forever; you were ready to die alone of old age, from being ripped apart by the infected or from having your head blown off by your many enemies. That was the life for you.Until it wasn’t.
Relationships: Cat/Ellie (The Last of Us), Joel (The Last of Us)/Original Female Character(s), Joel (The Last of Us)/Reader, Maria/Tommy (The Last of Us)
Comments: 73
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

Monotonous. Every day was the same. 

You woke up. Sometimes you ate, sometimes you couldn’t. You supposed at least there was variety there. 

One day you decided to leave the hellhole that was your home state of Massachusets. You couldn’t handle it anymore. The memories, the Fireflies, FEDRA. Finding the corpses of people you knew before the outbreak. It began to be too much. 

You wanted to believe you were strong. No, not strong; hardened. You were seventeen when the world fell apart. Your toddler niece ripped to pieces by the infected in front of you, her tiny hand nearly ripping your fingers out of their sockets before falling limp as she died. Your brother pulling you away as he watches his only daughter being killed by monsters. Your guilt. The blame. His death. Finding the bodies of your mother and father, shot clean through their skulls in your childhood home The shit you had seen and been through toughened your emotions to be like steel. Nothing could get to you anymore, you swore that to yourself. 

You were a liar. 

Every night was plagued by the screams and the sounds of tearing flesh and the feel of hot tears on your face. Every day you saw the skeletons in your closet come out to play in the buildings in the safezone. You couldn’t escape the agony that was hiding behind the familiarity of Boston. You couldn’t take this anymore. 

And so you left. You left the town and the state and all of your memories behind. You packed what few belongings you had into a sack and left under the cover of nightfall, slipping through the chain link fence that separated you and the free world and you fucked off, vowing to never come back to Boston again. 

You spent so much time walking. You couldn't drive; the outbreak happened before you learned, so there was only walking. Endless walking. You surmised that your calves could be used to sharpen knives with how dense they were from walking over rolling hills as you headed more and westward, farther and farther away from Boston. With each step farther away, you felt a weight lift from your tired shoulders. You smiled for the first time in years; you finally could leave and move past your horrors. 

The first time your head lay down to sleep on your journey to nowhere in particular is when you knew you had a problem. 

Your brother's voice rang clear in your head. 

_“My baby is dead, and its all your fucking fault!”_ _He screams in agony, huddled in the corner of the building you two were holed up in for the night, taking cover from the completely disarray outside. He sobs and sobs, telling you how much of a monster you are, how he would never forgive you for what you did, how much he hates you. The only thing you can do is stare out the window of the decrepit building and watch for the infected as hot tears burned blazing trails into your cheeks. He was right. You shouldve protected her more. You should've let them take you instead of her. But you hadn’t. You'd have to live with that guilt forever, weighing you down and tattooing creases in your forehead from stress._

_ In the morning, he’s gone. You never see him again.  _

You sit up with a start, eyes scratchy and face wet, and you paw at your cheeks to dry your tears. You can't do this anymore. You can't do the nightmares and the dark thoughts and the trauma anymore. You weep, freely and hard until you’re dry heaving and you can't breathe anymore, and then slowly rake air into your burning lungs. 

Enough is enough. You need to move on from this. You push it all deep, deep down, deep into your mind so you don't feel it anymore. It's been 20 long, lonely, dark years. You sigh. You refuse to feel this pain anymore. Never again will you feel like this. Never again will you let someone close. You were better off on your own anyway.

You're a liar. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Six months later and you’re  _ still _ walking. Your endless walking had brought you over the Appalachian mountains, around Lake Erie and through the Great Plains. You were fortunate enough to leave at the start of spring, so you havent had to deal with the murderous eastern american winter weather, but the year is closing to an end soon, you know it. Your tired feet crunch through the beginning of fallen leaves, the trees changing the color of their leaves for the oncoming autumn. A chilling breeze brushes your hair away from your neck and causes you to shiver. The air smells like September, or the very beginning of October. 

You grimace. You're going to need to sort out a living situation and food for the winter ahead. You learned in school that the winters in the midwest are no cakewalk, and you'd rather not die from freezing to death. This revelation turns your face into a grimace. Finding a place to stay means possibly having to coexist with other people for six months, maybe more. You don't like the idea at all. You don't do coexisting anymore. You don't want to, and even if you did, it's been so long that you don't know how to. An exasperated sigh leaves your chapped lips. 

You trudge ahead, walking down the side of a tall hill, moreso a small mountain, before coming upon a small town. You carefully climb down the steep grassy mound until you carefully hit the ground, overworked feet protesting the impact. Your knees bend into a crouch, and you survey the area. You seem to be in a strip mall, decrepit from years of exposure to the elements with zero upkeep. It seems abandoned. 

You know better than to believe that. 

Unsheathing your battered knife, you approach the back wall of the nearest building and you slowly slide your way around to the side wall and peek from behind the tattered structure. The ground is covered with shattered glass, but there are no bodies, and you silently thank god for that. Reaching for your bag, you pull out a bottle and chuck it into the middle of the clearing a ways away from you. The bottle smashes to the ground, and you listen intently for signs of infected, but you don't hear anything. Something prickles your skin, your fight or flight senses firing, but you don't know why. You decide to ignore it, knowing you desperately need the supplies the buildings could hold.

You carefully creep out from behind your cover and walk over to the entrance of the building you were hiding behind; a grocery store. Your stomach grumbles in delight, and you finally acknowledge its emptiness. You haven't eaten in at least 5 days, time escaped you and when you finally remembered to eat, you realized you had no food. You step over a pile of broken glass and climb in through the shattered window of the store, careful to avoid the jagged edges and any loose fragments on the floor that could cut through your thinning sole. 

There are some overturned shelves and part of the ceiling is caved in. You hope that, even with the broken glass, that whoever scavenged here left something for people like you. You peer under the shelves, searching with a starving desperation. You didn't know just how hungry you were until just now, your lack of calories finally catching up with you. Your muscles feel on the verge of atrophy. At least you had a good supply of water with the rivers you keep finding, but you would need food if you had any hope to make it to winter at all. 

You search and search but you find nothing, and you crumple with defeat onto your knees. You ball your hands into fists and grip your pants, using them to help you hold together your emotions. You mustn't cry, you mustn't cry…

A tear slips past your lashes and lands on your leg, the fabric needily soaking up the escaped emotion, and the dam breaks. Hot tears stream down your face as you silently cry, your body letting out the stress you've been holding in these past months. The travel has started to wear on you, you feel it now. Your desire for human connection and your fear of human connection playing tug of war in your brain, both demanding to be heard. You know you're going to need to find people before winter, everything here has been picked clean and you'll die of starvation before you can make it to a state that wont be ravaged by winter. You've never felt so weak in your life, so disappointing. Your head pounds with negative thoughts and hunger, and thats when you hear it.

The screaming, the clicking, and the rapidly approaching footsteps. 

Your blood pounds through your head, your eyes blacking with the speed at which you stand up, whipping around 180 degrees to assess the shitstorm that is about to land directly on you. You scramble through the window again, this time making the grave mistake of not being careful, and you slice open your inner thigh, and in your agony you fumble out of the hole and land wrong on your ankle, tweaking it enough to make you think its sprained. 

“Sweet fuck,” you hiss out, covering the wound on your leg before looking up at the approaching onslaught. A blend of runners and clickers are tearing toward you, and you quickly decide to make a run for it. You drag your damaged body up a small dirt path, going back up the hill and through sparse woods. Your pace is just fast enough to keep the infected from reaching you, and you continue to grunt at the pain in your leg and ankle as you struggle to maintain distance between them. You refuse to give up, but you begin to feel your muscles argue with your brain, loudly demanding that you need to stop moving. You feel bile rise in your throat from the protest of your overworked muscles, the pure acid burning your esophagus in a violent way. You gag but you know if you stop now to heave, you’ll die, and you'd like to keep your rapidly slimming chances of survival as high as you can. 

With two more steps your vision begins to blacken, the loss of blood and exhaustion intermingling in a way that is going to take your consciousness. You fight to hold on, gritting your teeth and exhaling hard through your nose, but you collapse after two more steps. 

“This is it, this is where we die (y/n),” you say to yourself backhandedly. You close your eyes and wait for the searing pain of being torn apart to set in, but it never comes. Instead, in its place is gunshots and the scruff, country affect of a man yelling at you. You try to look up at him and respond, but the words don’t form in your throat. You feel him lift you into his arms before you slip into blackness, the pain in your body and mind slipping away for awhile. 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone!  
> Thank ya'll so much for reading this fic! This is my first story in this fandom, so im sorry if I come off as rusty. Ill take any criticism and comments from you all <3  
> Enjoy

You begin to rouse slowly, the steady clopping sound of hooves invading your senses, followed by a flurry of concerned voices as you’re lifted through the air, guarded by what feels like a sturdy pair of arms. You bounce lightly as they carry you for several feet before walking up a few steps, the grip on you never wavering. You hear doors open and your eyes slowly follow suit, the bright lights of the room you're in making you wince and groan at the sensation. The figure above you glances down at you, and your eyes focus and take in his appearance. 

His skin is tanned, maybe just a shade or two below what could be called olive toned. He has a fairly full beard, black hair with spacklings of grey intermingled throughout, signifying his age. His skin, regardless of his grey hair, isn't very wrinkled and he doesn't have any major scarring. His eyebrows are frozen in a constant furrow, one you recognize well as it mirrors the one in your own forehead, and when you reach his eyes, something in you sounds. HIs greyish brown eyes look into yours, his pupils dilating and shrinking rapidly under your gaze. Your breath hitches at the feeling looking into his eyes gives you, and you're immediately drawn to this unknown man. You wouldn't call this love at first sight or anything like that, but something more, something deeper... 

You're pulled from your inquisitive reverie as the man carries you into a room and places you down on a cot. You break eye contact with him and he quickly backs away as a doctor leans over you, mumbling to himself about your wounds and your ankle; it appears he was already briefed, although you don't know how, because you didn't even tell them about your ankle. You wince as he pokes at your thigh, and he asks you to remove your pants. You look up at the tall man who carried you here, idly wondering if he was going to stay the entire time, especially now that you'd be stripped to your underwear. His eyes meet yours again, and your chest tightens. The doctor clears his throat. 

“Joel, you can go now, I need her to strip and I'm sure she doesn't want to do that in front of a stranger,” he doctor says, watching Joel expectantly. Joel clears his throat. 

“Right, sorry Caleb,” he says, flustered and floundering before turning heel and quickly exiting the room. You watch his broad shoulders push through the door and out of view before struggling out of your jeans for the doctor. He preps your leg and states that you'll need stitching. You groan. Over the years you've had to do your own fair share of stitching to yourself, but it never gets any easier to handle, especially without painkillers. You grunt as the needle pierces your skin, and you try to focus on something else, anything else besides the searing pain between your legs. 

Your choice distraction is exactly  _ what the hell happened when you looked into Joel’s eyes. _ It felt so familiar, like looking into the face of someone you haven't seen in years. It felt like eating your comfort food after a hard day at school. It felt like smelling your favorite perfume. It felt like your favorite song coming on the radio. It felt so strong, and yet you still can't place the reason why. It couldn't be because he was attractive, you've seen your fair share of attractive men before, and it never felt like that. Even besides that, you hardly spent any time at all looking at his appearance, your attention being immediately drawn to his eyes. You already know that this phenomenon is going to consume your waking moments, all of your time as you do… whatever it is exactly you're going to do next. 

_ Holy shit… You're in a camp full of who knows how many people.  _ Anxiety spikes within your chest, adrenaline coursing through your depleted limbs, their starved screams of protest making you drag in a breath and hold it for control. Its been so long since you've been around people, let alone to this magnitude, and now you have to worry about going about possibly asking them to let you stay.

_ “Am I ready for this?”  _ you think, your mind beginning to race.You let out a few panicked breaths as the doctor, (Caleb, you think his name was?), stands and tells you your leg is all stitched up. You thank him quietly as he wraps up your stitching and allows you to put your pants back on. He then sits on a chair and wheels himself over to your left foot, rolling up your pant leg to better look at your ankle. As hes examining you, a man and a woman enter the room. 

“Good mornin’ sunshine,” the man says sarcastically, a smile on his face as he crosses his arm and assesses you. His hair is dirty blonde, and he looks to be around the same build and height as Joel, maybe a few inches shorter. You look into his face and, speaking of Joel, you can see him in this man’s face. They’re nowhere near identical, but you can clearly tell they’re related somehow. The woman quickly speaks up.

“Joel found you running away from infected on one of our trails, care to explain who you are and why you’re so close to our camp?” She cuts right to the chase, and you quickly make a mental note stating that she's probably their leader, and that she cuts bullshit. You inhale once through your nose and exhale slowly before getting up the courage to speak. 

“My names (y/n) (l/n), I can’t even tell you why I’m all the way out here… Wherever ‘here’ is,” you start, “I was looking for change and my feet carried me here.” The man and the women glance toward one another, and you could tell there was serious non-verbal communication going on. After a moment they looked back at you. 

“Names Tommy,” the man tells you, “And this is my wife, Maria.” He gestures to the woman next to him. She says nothing, just flexes her shoulder and lifts her chin up momentarily in your direction. You gaze at the two of them impassively. 

“I'll cut to the chase,’’ Maria pipes up, “Winter is coming soon and my guess is you're fixing to stay here.” You look at her, eyes wide, before looking down to Caleb, who has removed your shoe and is wrapping your foot and ankle in gauze. You were right, just a sprain. You sigh.

“I suppose I wouldn't mind staying, if you're offering,’’ you say, almost as a question, and Tommy smiles at you.

“We are offering. We’ll need to talk about it, but as long as you pull your weight after your ankle heals, you're more than welcome to stay,” he says with finality. You offer him a small smile in return before the doctor speaks up in between the two of you. 

“Your ankle is sprained, try to not do anything stupid for at least a month,” he chides you, and you close your eyes to hide the fact that you’re rolling them. He's talking to you like youre a child, and that's one of the things you hate most in the world. 

“Is she good to walk with crutches?” Tommy asks, and your eyes open to look at Caleb expectantly. He nods before retrieving a tattered pair of makeshift crutches and handing them to you. You tuck them under your arms and stand on your good leg, idly testing the feel of the crutches and your balance. Then you look to Tommy and Maria.

“Are you hungry? We can talk about you staying over dinner,” He says, and your stomach loudly growls, the sound piercing the room and making Tommy laugh. Even Maria has a small smile. 

“Come on, lets go to Seth’s” 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

You follow Maria and Tommy out of the infirmary and down the street to the best of your ability. It takes getting used to, but eventually you can maneuver well enough with the crutches to match their pace. Tommy looks over at you and gives you a reassuring smile, and your stomach flips. You definitely aren't used to human interaction anymore.

The streets of this settlement are lined with some fairly well maintained houses, some even donning decorations for the fall, and deep down in your chest you feel an ache. Little things like that have always pleased you, and seeing as people here feel so safe that they can bring back old world traditions… you long for that safe feeling, the domesticity. As scared of you are of other people and getting close, you long for plain human contact. For conversation. You’re getting bored of talking to yourself all the time, as understanding of yourself as you are. 

The people you pass on the way to eat gaze at you with interest. Some even go as far as to smile at you and laugh at your awkward movement. You inwardly smile back at them, feeling far too awkward to express that much emotion to strangers, and continue your hopping. You notice a garden and some plants that are about ready to harvest, and you immediately feel comforted that they have a food source. Maybe staying here won't be so bad after all. The three of you approach a large building and they climb up the steps, making you look down with a “oh fuck” expression. Tommy laughs at your face before helping you up the steps. Maria has already disappeared inside. She must not be warm toward strangers either.

Inside Seth’s looks like your typical saloon type bar. The atmosphere is warm, with brown walls and lanterns offering dim yellow light. The air smells like beef, and your stomach churns in agony at the smell. You are beyond hungry at this point. The idea of being fed makes you feel relieved, and you try to relax, letting your shoulders hang. You want to remain guarded, but not standoffish. You don't want to seem ungrateful for the hospitality that's being shown to you. Tommy leads you to a table and pulls out a chair for you before vanishing through a door behind the bar. Maria materializes and sits down across the table from you, and soon after Tommy returns, handing you a decently sized.. thing.. wrapped in tin foil.

“We got lucky this year and found living cows, so we have beef,” he smiles at you, “You're lucky we found you in time for burger day.” Your eyes widen at him, and you nearly go primal on the tin foil in your hands. Its shredded in seconds, your nails tearing to get to the food inside, and you finally pick up the burger and sink your teeth into it and…

“Sweet fucking christ,” you moan, mouth full of bread and meat, and you hardly chew before taking another bite, forking the burger in your hands down as if you havent eaten in days. Then again, you haven't eaten in days. Tommy and Maria wait until you finish your meal and lean back in your chair appreciatively before speaking to you. 

“You're in Wyoming, in our settlement that we call Jackson,” he says, voice swelling with pride, and you immediately know he cares deeply for this place. He must run it alongside his wife, and next to him she nods in agreeance. 

“It might not be the Ritz Carlton, but we make do,’’ she says sarcastically, and you stifle a grin. Sarcasm is one of your favorite languages. 

“I happen to think it's wonderful,” you say, leaning forward and raising your eyebrows at her, your lips pulling into a grin, “it's a lot better than being out there, that's for sure.” Tommy and Maria exchange a glance before looking at you.

“That's what we want to talk to you about… We need to know your history, know you're not a danger to what we have here,” Tommy says carefully. Your eyes widen suddenly at this confession, but you know you can't be surprised. They're doing their jobs as the leaders of this place. You heave a deep breath and let it out slowly. Your past was not something you liked discussing in detail. You vaguely remember breaking one guys nose over him pestering you about it when you were twenty something, a few years after outbreak day. You look down at the table defeatedly. 

“What do you want to know?” You ask quietly. Tommy leans in to talk lowly to you. 

“Where are you from? Who were you before the end of the world? What are you  _ really  _ doing out here in Wyoming?” he asks, and you frown deeply. Should you tell him the truth, all of it? Or should you try to downplay the shit that happened to you. Risk them catching you lying, or bring skeletons out of your closet that you have barricaded in. You sigh.

“I'm from Boston. I was seventeen when shit hit the fan and I lost my entire family… I couldn't stand to stay there anymore, especially with the fireflies and FEDRA blowing up the city every other fucking day. I needed to get away, leave the demons behind and start fresh. I never expected to be with a group. You guys found me within an inch of my life,” you admit quietly, eyes welling up with the intensity of your admission. Tommy seems to know how you're feeling and so he reaches out to grasp your shoulder and rub it comfortingly. 

“Hey, you're here now. My brother found ya and you're gonna be alright,” he says, shaking your shoulder lightly to get his attention. You lift your head to meet his gaze and offer him a weak smile, and he smiles in response. You then see his eyes leave your gaze and follow something behind your head through the room, stopping over to your right before he turns his head. “Speak’a the devil.”

Tommy waves his hand, signaling for someone  _ come here _ , and you hear dense footsteps approach your table. You timidly look up into the eyes of Joel, and you feel the feeling again. Familiar, as if you've met before. Joel tugs a chair across the floor and he sits next to his brother with a thud. You look back to Tommy. 

“You're more than welcome to stay here,’’ he starts, and Joel seems to sit up a little straighter at this. “We have an empty house that you can stay in, free of charge until you can work to pull your own weight around here.” He smiles at you, and you return the smile warmly. You can feel Joel’s eyes boring into your skull, and your eyes flick to meet his. His gaze and his stature are cold, closed off and defensive. Shoulders squared, arms crossed and jaw clenched, head tilted back a bit as he gazes down his nose at you. You suddenly become very nervous. Your eyes abandon his eyes and return to Tommy’s warm gaze, seeking the safety he offers. He makes idle chit chat to you about Jackson, and Joel’s eyes never leave your face, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up at the feeling. 

You wish you could put your finger on what this is. This feeling is driving you fucking insane. It's so familiar, yet you're hopeless to give it a name. You're obsessing over it the entire time Maria, Joel and Tommy walk you to your house. They bound quickly up what are now your front steps, and as you rush to follow them, you miscalculate and start falling, You curse loudly, throwing your arms out in front of you to catch yourself, and your hands are met with Joel's forearms as he quickly scrambles to catch you. You look up to his face, and your faces are so close that his breath sweeps across your features, heating them in the cooling autumn air. Your eyes meet, and a shameful blush creeps across your cheeks, turning them an embarrassingly bright crimson shade. Joel's eyes leave yours and flick down to your cheeks, and then to your mouth before filling with an unknown emotion and quickly flicking away from you entirely, opting to stare at the porch column behind you as he helps you to stand up. You briefly catch your breath before squeaking a thank you to him as you enter the house- your house. 

It looked to be a standard house, light greenish blue paint donned the walls of the main room, to your left was a dining room and through the dining room you could see the kitchen. On the wall adjacent to you there were shelves, full of books you'd have to comb through later, and to your right was a couch facing a fireplace. Between the two sections was a staircase, and you assumed it led upstairs to your bedroom and a few other rooms. The house was a decent size, and for this you were glad. You didn't like being cramped up. Once you were done taking it all in, Tommy spoke. 

“Bedrooms and the bathroom is upstairs. Get some sleep. Tomorrow you can go and pick out some sets of clothes and toiletries, after that just take it easy, Once your ankle is closer to healed we’ll talk to you about jobs. If you need anything, Joel lives next door,” Tommy says, smiling at you and nudging the man next to him. Joel grunts in response, his gaze avoiding yours. Something feels off. You smile at Tommy and wish him, Maria and Joel a good night, and close the door behind them when they leave.

Once you're finally alone your facade cracks, mind exhausted from having been around real living people all day, specifically Joel. You drag yourself up your stairs and you quickly locate the bedroom. You drag off your shoes and socks and the rest of your clothes before dragging your body beneath the covers. It had been too long since you slept comfortably like this, let alone with a full belly. You bury your head in the untouched pillows and quickly slip into sleep. 

_ You spring awake. You climb out of bed, stumbling to your bathroom. Your face is dripping in sweat, and you clumsily turn on the sink, eager to rinse the salt from your eyes. You splash cold water on your face, scrubbing the sleep and the sweat from your eyes, and when you look back into the mirror, you jump. In the mirror is not your reflection.  _

_ It's Joel’s. _

_ His reflection follows your movements, and your anxiety displays on his face as if it's his own. You close your eyes and shake your head, the heel of your hand digging into your eyes, rubbing them until your vision is blackening. When you open them again, Joel is gone, and you see your own face in the mirror.  _

_ Except you have his eyes. Their pain and anxiety is so familiar to you that you don't even notice at firs that they aren't your own eyes until you notice they’re lighter than your own. You move in closer and your eyes snap back to their original color. And then it hits you. You know why his eyes are so familiar to you. They're filled with darkness and anxiety and his past. You've seen his eyes before.  _

_ You see his eyes in your own.  _

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are liking the chapters! Don't forget to comment your thoughts, I wanna hear em! <3

Your eyes fly open, a sense of dread immediately washing over you, and you stumble into your new bathroom to make sure you didn’t have Joels face. Staring into the mirror, you assess your features. Your eyes glide over your skin, somehow free from blemishes having not seen soap in twenty years. For being thirty-seven, you were surprisingly wrinkle free around your eyes, save from your forehead, which had a nice crease in the middle of your eyebrows from stress induced scowling. You didnt mind it much- you thought it added character to your face, the same thing with scars. Blemishes made you feel like your skin was a diary, the marks left behind by experiences marking you as a pen does paper, as a brush paints canvas. Youd like to imagine that you wouldve gotten tattoos in the normal world. 

You inspect your hair, the length going down to just above your ass, and take note of its greasiness. You long for a shower, and then you remember: Tommy told you to go and get toiletries in the morning. You quickly leave the bathroom and peek through the blinds of one of the windows adjacent your bed, and you peer into the street. People were out and about, so you figured that you were good to go and get stuff from…

“Fuck.” You grumble, rubbing your face as you remember that Tommy never told you exactly where to go for said items… god dammit. You reach for your clothes and pull them on carefully, looking to avoid aggravating your ankle which surprisingly feels better after a long nights rest. Maybe sleep really does heal your body. You quickly braid your hair, looking to try to mask the greasiness of it from the people outside, and you grab your crutches. Going down stairs was still definitely a struggle, and you blush hard at the memory of falling and having Joel catch you, his breath on your face and his eyes on your lips. You cringe hard at the thought of having looked so disheveled in front of him, teeth unbrushed and hair unwashed. You shake lightly at the thought before you realize; what if you run into him out there? You cringe even harder, knowing you look even worse than you did yesterday from having slept hard. A realization dawns on you.

Why are you so worried about how Joel views you? You have no answer for this question. Something just tells you you don't want to be caught off guard by him. You grumble and rub your face. This is the last thing you need. You zip up your jacket and open the door, crutching out onto your porch and down the steps carefully. You look around, taking in the sights of the town around you, and then swallow a ball of spit. You need to ask someone where to go. You spot a woman carrying a basket nearby and you crutch over to her as fast as you can.

“Uh, hi. I’m (y/n). Can you point me in the direction of where I can get some clothes? I'm kind of new here,” You ask shly, face blushing at your discomfort. The woman smiles brightly at you.

“Sure thing honey. I’m Christine. The building you want is the big red one over there,” she gestures to a barn like building down the street, and you thank her quickly before beginning your hopping. It takes you around 10 minutes to get to the building with your ankle being the way it is, and when you reach the door you're very obviously out of breath. The next issue is opening it without falling over or dropping a crutch. You tuck one crutch under your arm to the best of your ability and reach out to the door with your other arm, but your attempt is really kind of pitiful and you huff in frustration. You try swapping crutches but just as you’re leaning to open the door, it swings open for you. You gasp in surprise before looking to see who opened the door.

Joel.

“T-Thanks Joel,” you stutter out, not expecting to see him. Panic rises in your chest briefly. 

“Don’ mention it,” he grumbles out, not meeting your gaze. He gestures for you to go inside and then after you make it, he follows you in. The building is set up just like a barn, and you can probably just guess that it was actually a barn. One wall is lined with shelves and racks of clothing, while the other has things like shampoo, conditioner, and even razors. You stare in shock. Joel steps from around you to go and look through the clothes, and you follow him. He begins leafing through the coats and you just blankly stare at him, unsure of how clothing rationing works. You clear your throat and his head whips up to you.

“Do I just… take whatever I want? As many items as I want? Or is there some set number…?” you ask, and Joel just stands there looking at you blankly  before nodding shortly one time. That doesn't answer your question… not even close. You shake your head exasperatedly and start looking through the clothes. You see a few pairs of jeans that should fit you well, along with a few long sleeve shirts. You throw in a tshirt or two and a few pairs of shorts before moving down the line- as best you can with your full hands and crutches- and start leafing through the coats. Your skin prickles at the close proximity to Joel, and your arms gently brush together as you pick out a large black bomber jacket. You try to act like you didn't notice the contact as you move down to the underwear. 

You luck out and find a bra in your size, which was rare even before the end of the world, and you silently scream with joy. The panties are… slim pickings, to say the least. There hardly even seems to be a normal pair of panties here, everything is lacey and skimpy. You aren't necessarily complaining about that, but you can't imagine that youll  _ need _ lacey undies in the apocalypse. You doubt you'll be getting much action. You pick up a black number and you hear rustling next to you. 

Without turning your head, you glance over to Joel to see he's trying to side eye you to watch what you're doing, his expression slightly shocked. Somewhere deep inside yourself you smirk. You weren't a shy girl sexually by any means. You had lost your virginity a year or so before the event that started all this shit, and you had done a lot of exploring with the boy who took it. You idly wonder if he's still alive. Smirking to yourself, you pick up five pairs of lacey underwear and turn to go over to the toiletry section when a girl around your height breezes past you and runs straight up to Joel.

“Hey Joel! Can I have game night at your house tomorrow? Please Please Please Pleeeeeaseeee,” she begs, and you guess that she's his daughter. Joel seemed like the protective dad type, but you had no idea that his daughter would be so… young. Your heart sinks a little at that. Maybe he has a partner..?

“Ellie…” he begins, getting ready to tell her no, but before he can she notices you. Her face lights up immediately. 

“Oh fuck! Are you the new girl? I’m Ellie,” she secretes teenage enthusiasm, and you can immediately tell she's around fifteen or sixteen years old. She smiles happily at you while Joel shoots you an apologetic look. You shoot her a small smile back.

“Yeah, I’m (y/n). Are you Joel’s daughter?” You ask, more to answer a question you didn't know you really even had in the first place. Ellie laughs. 

“Nah, Joel just takes care of me. I guess he’s LIKE my dad but he's not REALLY my dad,” she explains, and your smile widens at her confession. Joel rolls his eyes. Ellie looks down at your full hands before gasping. 

“Do you want me to help you carry that stuff?” she asks, arms already shooting out to gather your clothes from you. You don't even bother to say no since it would be nice to have both your arms for walking with the crutches. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly, “I need to grab some stuff from over there too.” you motion with your head and Ellie happily nods. She walks over there and waits for you to catch up, and once you do you start picking out shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste and a toothbrush. You can't wait to brush your teeth again. It's been way too long. You turn back to Ellie and you notice Joel has vanished. You sigh in disappointment before speaking. 

“Would you mind helping me carry this stuff back to my house? If you can't I understand-” You begin, but Ellie immediately agrees. You two push through the door and out into the street, walking silently back to your house. Once you make it there, you have Ellie plop everything down onto your couch, her behind following suit. You feel incredibly awkward and out of your element, your lack of human interaction over the years rotting away at your social skills entirely. You two sit in silence for what feels like an eternity before Ellie starts asking you questions.

“So, where are you from?” She asks, and you hold the breath you just took. You needed to get used to telling people this information, and for the sake of moving on, you needed to get over it. 

“Boston. I grew up there.” you said simply.

“Hey, me too! I was raised by a woman named Mar-” Ellie stops her sentence short, looking as if she'd said too much. You cock a brow at her. “Nevermind.” she finishes. 

You note this as suspicious, but decide to not pester her about it. If she wants to open up to you, she will. You try to give her a warm smile.

“How long have you been here in Jackson? You ask her, turning her inquisition back to her. She smiles.

“Its been a few months now. Joel wants me to socialize more, try to make friends and what not. Thats why I asked Joel if I can have game night at his house,” she shrugs, then her eyes light up. “Do you want to come to game night?” She asks you energetically. Your eyes go wide.

“Whats… ‘game night’?” You ask, and she rolls her eyes in response. 

“You know, its where people get together to play board games? You never had a game night before?” she asks, shocked. You stare at her blankly before shaking your head. No. You hadn't ever had a game night. A fun night to you before the outbreak was smoking weed with your friends and eating too many potato chips. But never a game night. 

“You should come, you can meet my friends!” She says happily, and you briefly shudder at the idea of meeting more people before you realize that for your mental health, you really needed to socialize. Its also being held at Joel’s house, and something in you tells you you don't want to miss an opportunity to see Joel, so you agree. Ellie practically takes off like a rocket; jumping up and down like a jackhammer excitedly. You chuckle at her. 

“Its tomorrow at seven next door. I’ll see you then!” she asks and quickly rushes out the door. You furrow your brows. What a weird little girl. Weird, but fun. You breathe to yourself before trying to figure out how you're going to get all this shit up your stairs, but then you have a genius idea. You take the pile of clothes and crutch over to the stairs before chucking then with your full strength over the bannister and onto the top of your stairs. You then grab your bathroom supplies and climb up the stairs, kicking your clothes up onto your bed with your good foot like a soccer ball. You sigh in relief now, knowing you're going to have a real shower for the first time in twenty years. Rivers, streams and lakes just can't compare to indoor plumbing. You put everything in your hands on the ledge of the bathtub and then sit on the edge to carefully undo your ankle wrapping. You carefully note the way Caleb wrapped it, so you can rewrap it later and then practically rip your clothes off.

You finagle with the way the shower works for a minute or two before figuring it out, turning the water on and turning it toward warm. You have no idea if they could actually heat their water here. You can imagine finding the resources to do so was hard, but maybe they heated it the same way they found electricity? You don't know and you can't bring yourself to care too much. As the water heats you take your hair down and brush it with your fingers before feeling the water with your fingertips. It was the perfect temperature, and you stepped in carefully, minding your ankle the whole time. The feeling was heavenly. 20 years of dirt and grime evaporate from your skin under the burning water, and you just stood in place and let it assault your nerves. You stick your head under the stream, wetting your locks and letting it thoroughly soak them before you reach for the shampoo, eager to use soap on your hair. You try to be as sparing as possible, knowing this was a luxurious resource, and so you only drip a quarter sized amount into your palm. You lather it up in your hands before stepping out of the water to begin scrubbing vehemently at your scalp. You figure you'd need to scrub it until it bled before you finally felt it was clean. You massage and massage the shampoo through your hair until your arms begin to cramp before you decide to rinse it. The soap drips down your body, and you decided to use the suds as body wash, liberally scrubbing away at your PTA: pits, tits, and ass. As soon as you feel clean, you apply a little conditioner to the ends of your hair, and while it sits you brush your teeth. 

The toothpaste burns your mouth, having not had artificial mint toothpaste in decades. You brush and brush and brush every inch of your mouth, scrubbing your tongue to the point the toothbrush was down your throat and you were choking on foam. You finally spit and rejoice at the feeling of having smooth, plaque free teeth. Rinsing the conditioner from your hair, you thank whatever higher power that existed for getting you here. You were extremely thankful for this. You were merely looking to make sure you didn't die over the winter, but instead you found a place that could possibly end up being your forever home, and it even had electricity and water! As you climb out of the shower and rung out your hair, you look around for towels before finding a closet chock full of the fluffy objects. You wrap your hair in one and your body in another and decide to do some arbitrary grooming while you dried off. 

You poke around in the cabinet and drawers for tweezers and nail clippers, and when you find them you go to work. You carefully clean up your eyebrows, taming the overgrown hairs into nice, well shaped brows, and you clip your toenails into clean, smooth edges. You haven't felt this good physically in years. The shower and the grooming have revitalized you, making you feel oddly confident with yourself. This is the first time in a long time you sit down and feel  _ pretty _ . You suppose it's kind of foolish, seeing as this is the aftermath of a world ending event, but self confidence is still important. Even in the apocalypse it's nice to feel your best sometimes. 

You feel so good that you decide to braid your hair as nicely as you can and pick out some of your fresh new clothes to wear to go get some food. Your ankle feels a lot better after relaxing under the hot water of the shower, so you decide you'll rewrap it but go out to eat sans crutches. You wrap your ankle and put on one of the lace thongs, the new bra, a dark blue long sleeve turtleneck and some black jeans. You feel very good, and you slip your shoes on your feet. You carefully make your way down the stairs and toward Seth’s bar. 

Tonight you want to have a good night. 

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

The sun is just dipping behind the horizon when you leave your house. Walking to Seth’s is surprisingly fast. You didn't realize before how much the crutches slowed you down. The stairs are an easy climb for you, and soon you're inside, taking in the sights again. The room is full and lively, people talking and drinking, music playing from somewhere inside, and you smile. You haven't heard music since before the outbreak, and you recognize the song, but you can’t quite place what it is. You look around to see the source of the music, and you swoon at an old Jukebox standing in the back of the bar. Happily you skip over to it, and you see a large song list and a quarter on a string. You laugh. 

“Thats fucking genius,” you say as you scroll through the song collection. As you look, someone slides up next to you and peers over your shoulder.

“Whatcha gonna piiiiiiick?” Ellie coos over your shoulder, making you chuckle, and you begin looking a little harder in the selection. You want to pick something everyone will like, but not something people heard too much before the outbreak. Something people can sing along to.. Something classic… You gasp when you see it. 

Elton John’s Tiny Dancer. 

You insert the quarter twice and then click the corresponding buttons and the beginning of the song begins to play. You had such a soft spot for these songs growing up, your parents raising you to be an old soul, and hearing the song again makes you so elated. It seems like everyone in the bar agrees with you, as they all sway slowly to the music.

“You like classic rock too?” Ellie shrieks, and you shoot her a happy smile over your shoulder. 

“You bet I do!” You turn to face her.

“You should see the music store nearby! Its on one of the patrol routes I go on a lot, we should go on one of my days off! We can get you a player and records!” She gushes, and her energy is infectious. You nod happily at her.

“Hey, are you hungry? They’re serving dinner right now, let's grab you some,” She says as she turns. You happily follow her, no complaints on your side at the mention of food. On the menu tonight is spaghetti. You happily accept a bowl and some water from the man at the bar before following Ellie over to a table and plopping yourself down in front of your food. Just as you sit, the chorus of the song hits, and a lot of the people inside the bar sing along with the chorus, having no shame in enjoying the music. Your cheeks split into a happy grin. You like it when people enjoy things that you enjoy too. You eat in silence and sway slightly to the music, enjoying the energy in the building tonight. You really cannot believe how good you feel today. You and Ellie sit and chat about music before Joel walks in the building and you tear your eyes away from Ellie’s face. You blush when he makes eye contact with you and quickly you look down into your food. Ellie takes notice to the spectacle and turns around before realizing what's going on.

“Now I might only be fifteen, but I'm not blind. Why are you blushing at Joel?” she teases you, poking your arm. You roll your eyes at the merciless teasing before shrugging at her.

“I don't know… He saved my life, you know? And he's not exactly  _ ugly _ either,” you suppose, and Ellie laughs at this. She nods in understanding before watching Joel get food and sit down in the corner of the bar at a table by himself. 

“I get it. Joel’s a big grump, but he's not so bad when you get to know him. You just have to do that first,” she rolls her eyes. You cock your head at her.

“Why do you say it like that?” You ask.

“When Joel and I first met, he was an asshole to me. It takes time for him to warm up to you, but he does in his own way I guess. He’s cool,” she says, smiling at him. You glance over your left shoulder at him, and he just seems to be sulking over in the corner eating spaghetti. You frown at the sight. You look back into your empty bowl before looking back up to Ellie. 

“Lets go pick some more music,” you say, standing. She enthusiastically follows. 

You both reach the Jukebox and then you turn to her. 

“How much classic rock do you know?” You ask her, and she meagerly shrugs. 

“Not much honestly. I know some eighties hits, but beyond that its sparse,” she admits. You smile at her evily. 

“I'm going to educate you in music, Ellie. Watch the master at work. This is the art of rocking a room with classic rock” She laughs at you. 

“What exactly will you be showing me?” You chuckle lowly.

“Let’s see… something to get everyone singing along, something to get everyone nostalgic, and finally something to make them all get up and dance.” You say.

“I'll bite. What's gonna get them all to sing?” You answer her question by clicking Don’t Stop Believing. “And to get them nostalgic?” You click Dreams. “And a dancing song?” Easy choice, Purple Rain. You turn to her and grin.

“Watch and learn, kid,” you say as Journey starts playing. You lean against the jukebox and grin as you watch the faces of the people inside light up. People grab beer bottles and forks and use them as microphones as they begin singing along, and you turn to Ellie with a smug grin on your face. She laughs, rolls her eyes and punches you in the arm. You join in on the chorus, holding an imaginary mic of your own, singing loudly in Ellies face, and she pushes you away and yells at you for being embarrassing. You laugh hard at this before the end of the song comes and the tune is replaced by Fleetwood Mac. You see Ellie visibly enjoy this song, and you decide to come out of your shell a bit, your hips swaying in time with the song while you sing along with Stevie’s voice. You begin dancing around her in a circle, dramatically flourishing around her during the cymbal crashes of the song, and on one particular one you hip bump her, causing her to stumble and laugh. She slowly starts dancing with you, and you smile widely at her. You genuinely enjoy Ellie’s presence. She makes you feel like an older sister, enjoying your music and your teasing. 

Dreams dies out and is replaced with the opening riff of purple rain, and there's a collective sigh in the crowd of people in the bar. You wink at Ellie and within seconds people are standing up, partnering off and dancing in the middle of the floor. Ellie fidgets next to you. 

“What's wrong? Don't see anyone to dance with?” You turn to her. Her frown deepens.

“I don't think she's here, no.” She replies quietly, and you're taken aback for just a moment before you smile. 

“Tell me about her, what does she look like?” 

“She has black hair, shes around my height…” she drawls out, and you look up as you see someone approaching. 

“Do you mean her?” You whisper, smiling, as a black haired girl walks up to Ellie.

“Oh, Dina! Hi,” Ellie stutters out awkwardly.

“Do you wanna dance with me?” Dina asks, and you like her forwardness. Ellie glances at you. You smile sweetly at her before pushing her forward lightly, and you see the two girls disappear into the crowd. Oh, to be young and in love. You miss the feeling. You sway gently back and forth before you get the feeling you're being watched. You look over your right shoulder and your eyes meet Joel’s, whose face looks quite relaxed and serene in the lighting of the bar, his chin on the back of his hand. You blush at him and give him as best a smile as you can before turning away and being devoured by your blush. You watch as everyone begins to stop dancing, and by then you're about ready to head home and relax for a few hours before going to bed. 

You weave through the crowd of happy people, passing Ellie on the way out. You shoot her a wink unknown to her partner, and she flushes. You push through the doors and step out into the night. It's a full moon tonight, so it's not as dark as it usually is, and you feel perfectly comfortable navigating the darkness back to your house. You carefully step down onto the ground from the steps and begin your walk home, taking your time as to not aggravate your ankle and so you can enjoy the clear night sky. There's quite a bit of stars out tonight, the sky being void of clouds, and you smile while you hug your arms. Winter is definitely coming soon, the air is nippy as hell. You do enjoy nights like these though. Quiet, calm, clear. 

You're about halfway to your house before you hear footsteps a few yards behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, the unfortunate but usual fears of being a woman alone at night overtaking you. You try to ignore the person behind you, but the footsteps still follow you as you get closer and closer to your house. Panic rises in your chest, and you briefly consider running.

All this deep thought has distracted you from actually paying attention to where you're walking, and the next thing you know, you totally eat shit and fall unceremoniously onto the ground, scraping your knee. The footsteps approach you quicker now, and you scramble onto your ass to see the person coming toward you. You don't know if you should be more scared or more relieved when you see that it's Joel. 

“Jesus, yer clumsy aren't ya” Joel says, helping you to your feet, and you roll your eyes.

“Maybe if you didn’t walk behind me at night and scare the everloving fuck out of me…” you grumble, and he laughs. 

“Maybe if you used your crutches like the doctor told you to…’’ he retorts, and you look at him in shock. You huff. “Let's get you home,” he says. You flush.

“I really don't need the help, I'm a grown woman, not a fucking child,” you growl, embarrassed by his chivalry, this having been his now third time saving you from a fall, and his chastising you. He chuckles at you.

“Suit yerself then,” he then walks away from you, leaving you alone to walk the few yards back to your house. Your shock is evident on your face as you stare into his broad back. He walks gracefully up his stairs and onto his porch, going into his house without even so much as a backwards glance your way. You don't know who to be mad at, him for just leaving you, or you for pushing him away. You really,  _ really  _ hated being treated like a child, but you feel like you could've hid your wounded ego a little better than snapping at him. You sigh and make the trek back to your house quickly to tend to your aching knee. 

You get inside and decide to make a fire in your fireplace, tossing in kindling and a match and watching as it ignites the logs. You wiggle out of your pants and check your knee, happily reporting to yourself that it'll just be bruised, but your jeans and skin are intact. You don't even bother to pull your jeans back up, you just relax with them at your ankles in front of your fire, the flame warming your shins nicely. You sigh.

You really had not planned to develop feelings for Joel, but that has to be exactly what's happening here. He flusters you like you’re a teenager again, and you put your head in your hands at the realization. If he's really as brooding as Ellie puts out, this is going to be agony for you and you know it. It doesn't help that you aren't the type to openly pursue someone until you know it won't be a waste of time, so this might all be for nothing. Joel doesn't exactly seem like a hearts and flowers kind of man. Then again, you didn't seem that way either. Being here has significantly reduced your walls and has you acting  _ very _ differently than you had originally planned. You convinced yourself that you wouldn't let people in anymore, but here you are, finding yourself attracted to the man who got you here and befriending his adoptive daughter. You decide this is a mess, you've gotten yourself into a royal mess. 

You strip from your pants and hop up onto the couch, deciding you're going to sleep down here tonight in front of the fire so you can make sure it doesn't burn down the house. You get up to look for a blanket, finding one in a closet next to the stairs, and you curl up under it on the couch, using one of the decorative pillows to rest your head on. You close your eyes and begin to drift, and for the first time in many nights, you don't dream about anything. 

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

The late morning sun bleeds through your window, hitting your eyes and not very gently rousing you awake. You try to roll over to avoid the burning rays, wanting to sleep more because you are  _ not  _ a morning person. You groan, sitting up and huffing exasperatedly. You had nothing to do today until later tonight when you saw Ellie for game night, so you simply just did not see a point to being awake at this hour. You get up off the couch, deciding to do a few stretches on this lovely too-fucking-early morning. You stretch out your legs and your arms, carefully stretching your ankles, including the bad one. It really is feeling much better. Maybe you should see Caleb and ask him if you can be freed from “not doing anything stupid” sooner than expected. 

You climb up the stairs, brush your teeth, and set out to explore your house. If it's yours, you should at least be familiar with it, right? You look through the drawers and shelves of your bedroom, and you stop to put away your new clothes while you do. You find nothing of major interest in your room, so you explore the other room, which looks to be more like an office or a library. There's a nice desk with bookshelves lining the other three walls, which you're kind of thankful for. You do enjoy reading quite a bit, and upon perusing the shelves, you find some literary classics. To Kill a Mockingbird, Romeo and Juliet, and And Then There Were None. You remember reading these books in highschool, among a few others you're sure are in here somewhere.

You bumble around for a few more hours before the sun starts going down. You decide to put your hair into a loose shower cap you found so you don't get the braids wet while you take a fast shower. You keep the water cool, hoping it'll energize you as you scrub your body down with shampoo. You look down at your copious amounts of body hair and you make an important mental note to get a safety razor the next time you get to the storage barn. You rinse your body and hop out of the shower, quickly drying before dressing in a new pair of panties but your same shirt and pants from last night and freeing your braids from their ties, letting your hair fall out in crinkly waves around your face. You then head over to Joels for Ellies game night. 

As you knock on his front door, your stomach sinks as you realize you completely forgot what time she told you to come for game night… shit. You briefly wonder if you have enough time to ding dong ditch, but it doesn't seem like you do as you hear heavy footsteps approaching the front door. You silently curse yourself and try to put on a brave face in the meantime. Joel opens the door and cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Game night ain’ for another hour,” Joel says simply, and you meagerly blush at his response. He’s definitely grumpy, that’s for sure. You grumble and open your mouth to reply before Joel speaks again. “I guess you can come in, wait for ‘er here,” he says, voice softer than before as he rubs the back of his head awkwardly. You can’t help but hit him with a megawatt smile as he moves out of your way and let’s you into his house. 

Joel’s house looks very similar to yours, his paint just more off white colored as opposed to your light turquoise. His living room is expansive, and off to your left you also see his dining room. He even has two fireplaces. You barely know Joel, but the entire room screams the aura that he puts off. It’s full of wood carvings and pictures of landscapes and books and… you inhale loudly through your nose. Is that…?

“Is that coffee?” You turn to him as you slip your shoes off next to the door. He laughs at this. 

“You like coffee?” It’s your turn to laugh. 

“Who  _ doesn’t _ like coffee?” You reply, smiling. He hesitates for a moment before smiling back at you. 

“D’you… want a cup?” he asks, gesturing backwards toward his kitchen. You nod enthusiastically and watch him smile before he walks to get you some. You decide not to follow him, figuring it would maybe make things awkward, moreso than they already are, and instead venture into his living room. You scan over his bookshelf, admiring some of the small wood carvings placed as bookends, and out of the corner of your eye you see a small framed drawing. You step over to it and begin to inspect it. 

The drawing is very clearly of Joel, and it’s very well done too. It captures his likeness almost perfectly, and you stare at it. Just looking at a drawing of him makes your heart rate speed up. You’re in trouble, deep fucking trouble. You sigh. You continue to stare at the picture, eyes glazing over his facial hair and his lips and his jawline, and you’re so focused you don’t hear him walk up behind you. 

“Ellie drew that fer me,” he whispers, and your soul nearly leaves your body with the strength at which you jump in surprise. You bend at your waist and take a deep breath. 

“What the hell is it with you and scaring the shit out of me, oh my god,” you breathe, and Joel laughs at you in earnest now. It’s a hearty sound, deep and coming from his chest. You like it, it warms your ears and makes a blush spread across your cheeks. 

Big, big trouble. 

You stand and gaze up at him, his smile making his eyes crinkle, and you smile back with the same warmth. He hands you a mug with coffee, and then produces his own. In a moment of boldness, you clink your mugs together. He snorts at this. 

“Cheers,” you say, breathing quickly through your nose and smiling at him. His shoulders shake and he rolls his eyes, and you take a sip before walking over to his couch and carefully sitting down, not looking to spill hot coffee all over yourself and his furniture. You bring your knees onto the couch and up to your chest, placing your feet on top of each other for warmth, and just savor the moment. This is the first time you’ve had coffee in two decades, and you know you’ll shit your brains out later from the acid and caffeine, but you really can’t be bothered to care. You blame this partly on the fact that you’re with Joel right now, and your brain is running in hyperdrive, thinking thoughts like a fucking 13 year old girl. 

You always like to have a plan. Growing up in the apocalypse does that to you, you guess. As Joel takes a seat next to you, you sit and think to yourself what it would be like to be with him in that way. You know hardly nothing about him, but you’ve always been exemplary at reading other people, and you get the strong feeling Joel is a very protective and kind man once you chip away the walls. Everyone has walls now, it’s become part of survival, but you won’t claim to theorize what the reasons for his are. You have your own walls too, a lot of things have happened to you and you’re slowly learning to cope with them. A sudden realization hits you. 

Ellie is becoming close with you, and you’re almost afraid to form a friendship with her because of your niece. A hard shiver passes through your body. She’s not your niece. And what happened to her is not your fault. Rylee just couldn’t get away from them in time, and… You put your hand over your eyes in a vain attempt to hide your tears. You didn’t want to be thinking about this now. You want to go back enjoying this comfortable silence with Joel.

Speaking of which, Joel is looking at you with an inquisitive look on his face; his brows scrunched together and one cocked. You give him your best “it’s nothing” look and try to shake it off, but he doesn’t buy it. 

“I’m just… thinking about my past is all. Being here is very different for me,” you explain as best you can without giving too much away, and he nods in understanding. 

“Ellie and I were on the outside for a long time,” he says simply, not offering you too much in terms of explanation. Your dream from the other night comes to mind, how you saw Joel’s eyes in yours and felt like he was very similar to you. It really feels like he might be. He’s very closed off, he never wants to give too much of anything away, and his eyes carry this pain. You wish you knew what it was. After your brief conversation, the air in the room changes. Before it was a comfortable feeling, the silence you both shared coming naturally without becoming awkward. But now there’s this charge, a cross between sexual tension and anxiety. You look up to Joel from your mug after you sip tentatively at your coffee, and he seems to be looking anywhere but you. 

Thankfully, not even two minutes later, Ellie, the girl from last night, a guy and another girl bust through the door carrying bags of snacks and boxes of games. You whip your head over to them and excitedly sit up on your feet, smiling largely at them. They all stop and stare at the scene before them: You and Joel sitting on a couch together, relaxing and drinking coffee in silence. Ellie looks between the two of you and then winks, and your face fills with so much blood you briefly think your head is about to pop. Her three friends file in and start setting up the games on the floor in front of the couch, and Ellie sets her elbows on your shoulder and leans her shin on top of your head. You roll your eyes at her. 

“Whatcha guys doin’?” She asks in a singsong voice. You say nothing, just continue to stare at the floor, and Joel clears his throat before standing. 

“Headin’ to bed. Clean up after yerselves,” he says gruffly, vanishing from the room and stomping up the stairs. You sigh. Ellie jumps over the couch and sits next to you. 

“What was that about?” she whispers to you. You shake your head and rub your temples. 

“I don’t know, sometimes he opens up to me and sometimes he doesn’t,” you say frustratedly. Ellie pats your shoulder. 

“Give it time. He’ll come around. It took me saving his ass from death before he liked me,” she says simply. “Come on, forget him, let’s play monopoly!” 

You smile at her and get onto the floor, introducing yourself to the others. The girl from last night is Dina, The other girl is Kat, and the boy is Jesse. They all joked with you about losing in the board games tonight is your initiation, and you laughed really hard at that. If there’s one thing you are, it’s competitive. They doll out the money and you guys get to work. 

Two hours later and you emerge triumphant in monopoly, having nearly bought the entire board. You sit up proudly while they look at you shocked. The next game is uno. Pre-outbreak, this game was your shit. It’s half luck half strategy, and you all get pretty into it. You all scream each time someone plus fours someone else, laughing and hollering at one another for what feels like hours. Somehow you end up losing to Ellie, who rubs it in your face as you leap over to tickle her, making her scream and wrestle you off of her. Everyone laughs while you two fight, and they get to setting up the next game, yahtzee. You’re a fairly literate person, so you feel like you’ll be okay here. 

Within the first five minutes you try to argue that “fuck” should be a word inducted into the book, and everyone erupts in a fit of giggles. You get up and skim joel’s bookshelf for a book with empty paper and surprisingly you find a notebook. You all fill it with your new book of words for yahtzee, and when you’re done everyone agrees that it’s gotten very late. You all clean up the board games and get up and head out for the night, wishing them a goodnight as you leave Joel’s house and head back to your own. You strip, shower, and then crawl into bed, eager to sleep the strangeness of today off. 

You know Ellie keeps telling you to be patient, but there’s so many mixed signals happening that you don’t even know what to think. Joel is comfortable with you in private, but around other people he becomes aloof and short. You hope that overtime, he’ll open up to you more, maybe learn to not be so spacey in public. You can only hope. 

The next week and a half of your life is monotonous, boring. Ellie stops by to hang out with you sometimes, your big sister relationship growing into more of a mother daughter bond despite your anxiety that you feel. You just keep reminding yourself that she isn’t your niece. Sometimes Tommy and Maria stop by, they bring you food and ask you to help out a little with easy chores around the settlement. You do so of course, eager to help pull your weight and to stop feeling so restless. You and Joel pass one another on the street, you smile at him, but he doesn’t smile back. It’s frustrating. 

Nothing changes until you get the OK from Caleb to start walking as normal. 

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)

The joy from you is palpable as you leave Caleb's office, your face splitting grin radiating warmth. You walk jovially down the street back toward your house, eager to shower and relax before finding Tommy and Maria and sharing the good news with them. Before you can, you run into Ellie and Joel. You try to just ignore Joel and focus on Ellie, but his presence making your hair prickle is a big distraction. Your frustration over his behavior to you has just been steadily building, even if you will it not to. 

“What's with the smile?” Ellie asks, and you jump up and down on the balls of your feet in excitement.

“I'm cleared to work!” You screech at her, and she matches your enthusiasm in a hug. 

“Tomorrow I have off, let's go check out the music store!” She shakes you happily and you nod as best you can at her while your head flaps back and forth on your neck. Idly you wonder if this is going to give you whiplash. 

“I'm good for that, say around lunchtime?” You ask, and she nods. Joel just stands there stiff. You wish you knew what the hell was up with him recently. Ellie tells you she’ll see you tomorrow, and you bid her farewell before skipping back to your house. You head into your kitchen and make some tea from leaves that Christine grew in her garden and eat some granola, deciding to stick to a light pre-dinner snack. You relax for a while, choosing to save your shower for later tonight until you finally get the energy to go find Tommy and Maria. 

You step out of your house and down your steps, heading down the street toward the main building in the far end of Jackson. It's a bit of a hike, maybe 5 or so blocks down from your house, and the air is chillier out today. You curse yourself for not bringing a jacket as you break into a speed walk, nearing on a jog to help get you out of the cold faster. A few minutes later you make it to Tommy and Maria’s “headquarters” and open the heavy doors. There's some hustle and bustle inside, but nothing so crazy that you can't find the people you're looking for. Tommy and Maria are in the far end of the building, talking to the technicians about the hydroelectric dam where they get all their power from. You tap them both on the shoulder excitedly.

“Guess who's cleared for duty!” You exclaim, holding your arms out. Tommy smiles at you while Maria just watches. She still hasn't exactly warmed up to you yet. 

“That's great, congratulations,” Tommy says, offering you a high five which you happily partake in. 

“In two days, meet us in the stables at 7 am. You're going to be starting patrols,” Maria says in a monotone voice before turning around. Tommy offers you a small apologetic smile and a thumbs up before turning back around to the guys who were talking to them about the dam. You waste no time heading back to your house, eager to get out of the cold, and you decide to sit by the fire and read one of your books until dinnertime. Tonight's selection is The Catcher in the Rye. You page through about 6 chapters by the time your stomach is telling you that it's time to eat. You pull on a sweater that you found in the clothing storage the other day and head down to Seth’s to stuff yourself with whatever was for dinner. 

Tonight's menu was venison and potatoes with deer gravy. It wasn't beef, but you couldn't care less. Food was food now, and you happily accepted your plate. You took it back to your table and ate happily in silence undisturbed by the world. You’re excited for tomorrow, a day out with Ellie, so you try to eat fast so you could go home and shower and get off to bed. You shovel in your food and immediately go home, showering and then jumping immediately into bed. You feel like a little kid again, excited for Christmas Day, so you would go to bed extra early. Your head hits your pillows and you are happily asleep. 

The next day you wake earlier than usual for you, since you went to bed the same way. You leap out of bed, put your hair into two braids on either side of your head, and get dressed in a thicker pair of jeans and two shirts- a long sleeve and a turtle neck. You have no desire to be freezing your ass off today, so you’re going prepared. You head downstairs, eat some more granola and drink more of Christine’s tea. You have no idea what kind of tea it is, but it's smooth and it caffeinated you just enough to get you through the day without keeping you up all night. 

Not long after breakfast, there's a knock on your door, and you quickly grab your knife holster, pistol and your jacket before stepping out to meet Ellie. She grins at you excitedly and you return her enthusiasm as you wrap your knife to your leg and slip your jacket onto your arms, your gun going into the back of your jeans. She excitedly tells you about the record store and how its not too far away and how you're going to love every second of it as you walk to the stables, and you bask in her unbridled joy. You two are smiling like idiots while you walk, and when you get into the stables, your smile vanishes. 

Joel is standing next to a horse, saddled up and seemingly ready to go with you. He avoids your eyes. You look at Ellie with raised brows. 

“He wouldn't let us go alone, he said it's too dangerous with just the two of us,” she grumbles, and you can tell she argued with him for a while over this. You roll your eyes. Joel is the overprotective type. In a way, it's sweet, but it's also confusing. She didn't just say he was worried for her, he wanted to come for the both of you, “us”. You're probably reading too far into this. But the phrasing she used is eating at you. You roll your eyes at this new development and saddle up a horse of your own, hoping that riding a horse is the same as riding a bike, and the three of you head out. 

You leave Jackson and head what you want to say is West, passing the strip mall where Joel found you on the way. The ride is surprisingly short and in no time you arrive in a small deserted town with a lot of stores. It looks touristy. Slowly clopping through the streets to watch for infected, you take in the sights. These buildings remind you of Boston. Shops on the ground floor, apartments on top. It's a homely feeling. Soon you arrive at the record store, and you all leave your horses in plain view so you can make sure nothing happens to them. Ellie grabs you by the hand and practically drags you over to the vinyl shelves. 

“Here we are! There's one player left too, lucky you!” She says, picking it up for you. The box is decently sized, and you can only hope it'll work after 20 years of being exposed to the elements. Cardboard doesn't really seem like the best defense against time and rain and snow and wind. You begin leafing through the records, finding some Pink Floyd records that you must have, some Elton John, Fleetwood Mac, and Queen. You pick up a few others for good measure, like AC/DC and the Doors, and a few random ones that you hope you and Ellie can discover later. You smile. This is nice. You turn around and try to spot Joel, noticing he's lingering over to your left where the country music vinyls are. You snort. His head whips around to you.

“What's so funny?” He asks defensively. You smile brightly at him.

“Of course you like country music,” you tease, and he looks at you dumbfounded. Score: one- you. Zero-Joel. Ellie laughs at the whole spectacle as Joel grumbles and walks away, opting to go and look at the guitar center in the store. Does he play guitar? You smirk. You see an opportunity for some more teasing. You quietly follow him. He starts inspecting some strings and you sneakily weave your head around his left bicep, his shoulder much too out of reach for you. 

“So you're telling me you not only like country, but you can play guitar too? You're a regular ol’ cowboy,” you laugh, nudging his arm with your elbow as you look at the packet in his hands. “You're gonna have to play something for me sometime,” you flirt for good measure. Joel is visibly beside himself at your teasing. 

“Good luck with that,” Ellie shouts from the vinyl shelves, “I asked him to play for me and he still won't do it.” You nudge him again. 

“Come on Joel, lighten up and play something for us.” He glares down at you and you smile at him sweetly, giving him your best doe eyes. Ellie begs him along with you from the other side of the room. He closes his eyes and exhales loudly through his nose before opening them again, his eyes full of fire as he looks at you again.

“You an’ that mouth,” he growls, only audible for you to hear, and you're ashamed to note the immediate reaction your body has at this. Your eyes widen as you feel a hot shiver roll down your spine and settle right between your legs. You blush and quickly back away from him, unsure of how exactly to react to the fact this man can get you aroused with four drawled out words. You bring your lip between your teeth, nibbling on it gently and willing the dirty thoughts to go away before you skimper back over to Ellie and watch as she picks out some records for herself. You take in deep breaths, this arousal just not going away, and Ellie notices your flushed expression and the weird way you’re standing. She nudges you with her elbow and winks, and you wish a hole would swallow you up right then and there. This man’s adoptive daughter is giving you pointers on how to get with her dad… You feel so shameful. 

You two finish up record shopping and get everything put into a duffle bag. Ellie forces Joel to carry it, which makes you laugh. He grumbles and complains and you take it as another free chance to tease him. 

“What's wrong country boy? Aren't you a big strong man? Do you want me to carry the bag?” You ask him, raising your brows at him and batting your lashes to really drive your intentions home. A growl emanates in Joel’s chest before he takes the bag from Ellie and carefully slings it over his shoulders. Score: You- two. Joel- zero. You shoot a shit eating grin in Ellie’s direction, and she covers her mouth and offers a silent laugh from atop her horse. You climb onto your horse and the three of you begin heading back to Jackson. Ellie excitedly chatters about having a music night sleepover with you, and you easily agree to it. 

The sun is setting when you get back to Jackson. You all ride the horses back to the stables, put them away for the night, then head back to your house. Joel follows begrudgingly, still carrying the bag, and when you get there, he practically throws it at you before disappearing. You gasp and furrow your brows at this. Turning to Ellie for an explanation wields you little result. She just shrugs and shakes her head. You two put away your records and set up your player before mutually deciding you want to get dinner. 

You walk to the bar in comfortable silence, and when you enter, the place is lively. People are dancing, talking animatedly and drinking. It's the equivalent of a Friday night happy hour in here. Ellie offers to go and get your food while you go and find a table, and unfortunately the closest table to you is one or two off from Joel. You say unfortunately because you’d like to get through dinner without having a throbbing between your legs, but with his close proximity that's not something you can promise. Ellie takes the seat across from you when she finds you, bringing you a hot bowl of soup and making it so you can only see half of Joel’s handsome face. You both dig in, and once you're done a man approaches you. 

He's tall and thin, with blonde hair and green eyes and an air of overconfidence. You know exactly what he wants the second he opens his mouth. 

“I don't believe we’ve met, I’m Adam,” he says, reaching for your hand, kissing your knuckles softly. Your eyes flick to Joel, and he's watching you with a fire in his eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line. You laugh inwardly.  _ Jealous, are we? _ you think devilishly, immediately realizing this could be the push you need to get Joel to take initiative in this little game you two have started. You giggle at Adam, deciding to play it up. 

“I’m (y/n), nice to meet you,” you practically purr at him. You shoot Ellie a wink and judging by the look on her face, she immediately understands what you're doing. She winks in response. 

“I was wondering if you'd like to dance with me for a song or two?” Adam asks, and you know you have this situation in the bag. You feel bad for having to antagonize Joel like this, but something tells you he's not the type of man to take the first move until he cracks. Maybe he just needs a little help. It's just a dance, it's harmless. You nod to Adam and follow him onto the dance floor as Black Velvet begins to play. You laugh. This is all just too perfect. The couples around you split and begin free dancing in front of one another. This is definitely not a slow dancing kind of song. You glance over at Joel and judging by the look on his face, he's seething. You flick your eyebrows up at him for a millisecond, and his entire stature changes. His eyes narrow to thin slits and he crosses his arms, leaning back in his shair and full on scowling at you.  _ What are you gonna do about it, Miller? _

Even though this is all part of your plan, you still aren't going to touch Adam or let him touch you. You're just going to sensually move your body around in the crowd with your eyes on Joel the entire time. There is absolutely no reason for him to touch you, you're strangers, and you really don't want to have to kick the shit out of someone tonight. The first few beats of the song are fine, Adam is giving you some space, granted it's not really enough, but this dance floor is crowded. You brush it off and continue dancing, letting yourself feel the music as you spin to totally face Joel. You can practically see steam rising from his ears, but now Ellie has joined him at his table. He doesn't even acknowledge her, his eyes trained on you and the other man the entire time. Suddenly, there are hands on your hips and a groin in your ass, and your face turns into one of shock. You physically recoil at this, spinning around to give Adam a “what the fuck, man?” kind of look. As you open your mouth to lay in, a dense body is forced between the two of you. Joel’s cracked. 

“I don' believe she likes you touchin’ her,” he growls at the other man, and just this display alone has Adam nearly pissing his pants. You wrap a hand around Joel’s bicep, peering up at him through his lashes. His resolve wavers for half a second before he turns back to Adam. “If I were you, I wouldn't do that again.” 

Adam whimpers, nods and offers you a faint “I’m sorry” before he scampers out of the bar. Joel turns to you, his eyes blazing, and he grabs your wrist before actually dragging you out of Seth’s. You struggle against him as he drags you all the way back to your house, and he finally releases you in your living room. 

“What’s gotten into you?” You nearly shout at him as he practically slams your door. His eyebrows shoot up.

“Gotten inta’ me? You wanna tell me why you used that boy ta’ make me jealous?” He seethes, his accent coming out more prominently in his anger. You scoff. 

“What reason do you have to be jealous? You are the most confusing man I've ever fucking met.” You shout, and Joel takes a cautionary step back. “Go ahead, tell me. Why are you jealous?” Joel doesn't respond. Boldness takes over you. 

“That's exactly what I thought. You-” you don't even get to finish your sentence. Joel is in your space in an instant, forcing you up against the wall of your living room, his hand gripping your chin and forcing you to look up at him. Your hands grip his thick wrist, nails gently digging into his skin. His pupils are practically blown out completely. He brings his face dangerously close to yours, and you poke your tongue out to wet your lips tentatively. He huffs.

“Will ya’ please shut that fuckin’ mouth of yers’,” he growls before crushing your lips with his own, his mouth forcing a moan from yours. Your body responds immediately, your hands making their way up and into his hair to gently pull on it, making him gasp. You take this as a chance to slip your tongue into his mouth. He groans, tonguing you back as he slides his leg between yours, pushing against the apex of your thighs with his knee. You throw your head against the wall and let out a lewd moan, Joel taking this opportunity to begin attacking your neck. You needily grind yourself against his leg, your body seeking delicious friction. Joel chuckles at your neck. 

“Look at ya’. Ya’ always got somethin’ smart to say, why not now? Too busy grindin yer’ needy cunt on my leg to focus?” He says, eyes locking with yours, and you grab his face and bring his lips to yours again. You bite his lip, hard, and Joel responds by bucking his knee against you, making you gasp. At this rate, you’ll cum just from his knee rubbing against your clit through your jeans. You whimper against his mouth, his hand reaching up to your neck and applying light pressure. Your eyes roll back into your skull. 

“Look at me,” he growls, and you're too far away to listen. You're all sensation, body burning from his kisses and his friction, his beautiful perfect friction. You feel yourself wetting through your pants and onto his pant leg, your slick soaking your panties and making them slide smoothly against your clit. What brings you back is his light slap to your face. Your pussy clenches at the feeling.

“I said, ‘look at me’,” he growls again, and you peer up at him through your glossy half lidded eyes. “Do not ever pull what you did tonight again,” he drawls. “You are mine.” He lifts his kneecap up into your awaiting cunt and you reel at the pressure to your clit. You’re so close, so so close. 

“Nhg, Joel,” you mewl, and his movements speed up, his leg sliding freely between your thighs now.

“What's wrong baby girl?” he teases. You gasp.

“M’ gonna cum,” you squeak, and he laughs in response. 

“Oh no ya’ dont. Not until you say yer’ sorry and tell me who you belong to,” he says, placing his head in between your shoulder and your neck, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh there. You go to scream, but his fingers are in your mouth, preventing the sound from escaping. You greedily lick and suck at the digits until he removes them. 

“I-I’m so sorry Joel. I’ll never d-do that to you again. I’m all yours, only yours!” You moan, and in a second Joel has the fingers you sucked down your pants and jammed into your aching cunt. You’re paralyzed by the feeling. 

“Atta’ girl… You can cum for me now baby, let me know how good I’m making you feel,” he says, stirring your pussy with his fingers, your back arches off the wall and he kisses you, greedily swallowing your screams of pleasure as you cum all over his hand. The pleasure knocks your legs out from under you, your only support are Joel's fingers that are fueling the most mind blowing orgasm you've ever had in your life. You gush around him, a growl emanating from his chest at the feeling. When you're done, his fingers pull out of you easily. 

He glances down at his hand, observing your creamy slick, and his eyes snap back to reality. His mouth falls open, his eyes look down to you, now slouching on the floor, and he looks horrified. Without even a second word, he vanishes through your front door, slamming it behind him, leaving you alone to bask in your post hand-coital glow. Though, you wouldn't call this basking. Basking would be cuddling with him here on the floor in your rapidly collecting puddle of juices, but instead, youre here alone, trying desperately to come down from your high enough to really and fully realize  _ what the fuck just happened. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to maplechii, EllieDinaWilliams and Lemaris! Your kind comments to my post about me being sick made me feel worlds better and helped give me motivation to finish up this chapter. <3

_So is that it? He gets to finger the fuck out of me and then just leave? What is wrong with him?!_ Your fuzzy brain screams. Your body is unable to move, slumped over on your living room floor, back sweaty and sticking to your shirt. You're far too hot but you just can't bring yourself to get up. _Sweet Jesus._

You wish you knew what was up with Joel. This is the farthest you've ever made it with him, and it literally took you enraging him for him to do something. And then he _leaves_ ? It makes no sense. You aren't one to pry things out of people, you know it's the wrong way to approach things, but after today you simply can't just let this go. You'll have to confront Joel eventually. At this point you really feel like you deserve _some_ sort of answer. You don’t just expect him to open up to you this soon about his past or his demons or whatever crazy fucking baggage he has, but he clearly has some sort of attraction toward you, and the feeling is mutual. There's a rift in communication and you wish you had the first idea on how to build a bridge. 

Should you give him space? Talk to him about it? Let him come to you? Avoid him altogether and move on from what happened? You bury your face in your hands. You just didn't know anymore. You've been here for not even a month and you're already wrapped up in a dramatic romance. You gingerly try to lift yourself from the floor, your clothes sticking to your skin with your cooling slick and making you uncomfortable. On shaking legs you drag yourself upstairs and into your bathroom. Turning the shower onto its hottest setting and peeling your clothes off, you step under the molten water, placing your hands on the wall of the shower as you dipped your head into the stream, the scalding water burning a trail down your back, relaxing your tense muscles. 

Without warning, a sob creeps up your chest, and you cover your mouth. You bite your palm and try to hold everything in, having absolutely no desire to cry right now, but a single tear falls and the dam breaks. You're suddenly teleported back to the grocery store right before Joel found you, before you hurt your thigh and sprained your ankle and almost died to the infected, and you briefly wonder for just a moment if it would've been better had you not been saved. The thought is cold and unwelcome, and you idly call yourself dramatic for this, but between having your carefully crafted walls fall down unexpectedly and this shit with Joel, you can't help it. You know it's arbitrary, you _just_ met Joel, but you can't help it. You don't know if it's because you feel like you've always known Joel, or if you just are so out of the loop that you can't handle being confused, but whatever the reason is you know this really is not a pleasant feeling. Your exhausted legs give out and you're forced to sit on the floor of your shower, the water cascading over you as you cry. You cry and cry until you can't anymore, and then you wash your hair and body as fast as possible so you can crawl into the safety of your bed and sleep away the hard day you've had. 

The next morning you wake to a pounding on your door, you loudly screaming “I'm coming!” in response. You pull on shorts and a shirt and practically throw yourself down the stairs to get to the door faster. Behind it stands Tommy. 

“Morning sunshine. You're late for patrol, here's a little housewarming gift for you,” he says, holding out an alarm clock to you, and you rub at your face exasperatedly. Tommy tells you to go and get dressed and you tell him you'll be five minutes, you _swear_ , before bounding up the steps again. You brush your teeth as fast as you can before throwing on underwear, jeans, a long sleeve and a coat, and you trip into your shoes as you make it with thirty seconds to spare. You smile brightly at Tommy before heading past him toward the stables. He catches up with you easily, and you two walk in unison until you reach your destination. You ask him where you two are going for patrol before he shakes his head. 

“Not you an’ I, you an’ him,” Tommy gestures, and you turn around to stare Joel right in his face, He avoids your gaze, while your face heats in anxiety and anger. You turn to tell Tommy you aren't going _anywhere_ with Joel, but he stops you short, lightly pushing you over to a horse. You huff and walk over to the horse next to Joel’s and sling yourself over its back, eager to start this day so it could end faster. Joel gets atop his horse and you briefly see him look at you through your peripheral, but you ignore him entirely as you gaze down at Tommy. Tommy seems to notice the strange air between the two of you but he apparently decides to ignore it before turning to Joel. 

“I want you to take her up to scenic overlook, get her acquainted with how we do patrols. You're both off the rest of the day after that,” he says simply, looking down at a clipboard. Joel grunts before steering his horse forward, looping around Tommy and heading outside. You follow him without a second glance in Tommy’s way and you get started on patrolling for the day. You two leave through the East gate and trot down a path through the middle of sparse woods. It’s really beautiful out today. The sky is clear and the air is crisp, the smell of winter on the breeze. It must be nearing november. 

Most of the trees have lost their leaves, the once green grass overtaken by a smattering of red, orange and brown foliage. You were excited for winter. Pre-Outbreak, winter was your favorite season. You particularly liked Christmas. Snow, gifts, christmas lights, two weeks off of school… what isn’t there to like. Your eyebrows shoot up and then sink back down in a moment of realization. It’s been two decades since you celebrated Christmas. You don’t know how to feel about that. Another realization dawns on you: has Ellie ever experienced Christmas?

You hardly know Ellie, only having met her a few weeks ago, but your maternal instincts draw you to her. You’ve had an affinity toward reading people for a long time, and when you see Ellie you can see a girl who has dealt with a lot of shit. You can imagine something bad happened to her parents, seeing as she isn’t with them and Joel’s caring for her instead. _How did they meet?_ You make it a mental note to ask her later. You want to give Ellie a Christmas. Somehow, some way, you want to show her what it was like before the world went to shit. You think she’d really like that. 

You glance up at Joel and stare at the back of his head. _What to do…_ You had no idea. It’s so tense, being here with him right now, after what happened last night. Your face heats at the memory, a jolt of electricity sparking between your thighs at the unwanted thought. You were angry at him. Moreso confused, but angry was definitely in there. You don’t even know if you have the right to feel this way… You just met this man. You rack your brain, trying harder and harder to figure out what his reasoning could be. It doesn’t seem like it’s anything having to do with _you._ He doesn’t seem to be repulsed by you or anything of the sort, so this must be an inward issue on his end. You desperately wish you knew what it was. Maybe you will talk to him after all. But will he open up to you is the problem. You had no way of knowing. You just knew you liked Joel, and whatever this was you wanted to work it out with him. 

You’re startled out of your thoughts when you come upon a building. Joel ushers his horse inside, and you do the same, ducking under the wall and climbing off your horse. You glance at his name; Alexander, and nod, a smile gracing your lips. He looks like an Alexander. You tie his reins onto the radiator inside the building and glance over to Joel who is standing next to a small hole in the wall. As you approach him, he quickly ducks inside, and you move to follow him into a small corridor. After a few steps, you come upon a rope hanging down a wall. You step back to let Joel go first, but he motions for you. 

“You can go first,” you mumble, idly kicking at a pebble under your foot. He huffs.

“Ladies first.” He says.

“You first, I don't know where i'm going-”

“Will ya just climb the fuckin rope (y/n),” he sighs exasperatedly. Your eyes widen while you're looking at your rock. His attitude makes you feel uneasy. Is this because of last night? You frown deeply.

“Whatever,” you whisper back before taking hold of the rope and climbing up to the ledge. You get to the edge and lift yourself up and over, careful to mind your stitches as you move. You stand and dust yourself off and step to the side as Joel climbs after you, turning your head away from him and crossing your arms across your chest. You were hoping things wouldn’t be like this between the two of you, but it's very clear Joel seems to have a serious issue and he's being grumpy toward you in response. He grunts behind you before walking past you, leading you out into an open room with… you gasp.

The view in front of you is breathtaking. You can see for miles from where you are, the lookout overlooking a nearby town and giving you a clear view of the mountains. You lean your hands against the wall at your waist and just admire what you see. The view is serene, it takes you back to a time before the infected and your family dying and before Joel was mad at you. It was nice to imagine a world without all the bad things of this new world. If you looked at this long enough, you felt like you could forget everything and just relax. Just _exist_. You smile. You stare for so long that you forget Joel is there with you until he clears his throat. You spin around.

“You needa’ pay attention,” he scolds, and you roll your eyes as you walk over to him, making a point to stand a few feet away so he knows you're upset. You see him take notice of the distance, eyes flickering over the space before he sighs lowly. He seems exasperated, which you immediately feel like he has no right to do, seeing as _he’s_ the one who finger banged you then ran away. Joel explains that you write you and your partner's name on the notebook in front of you and you record the state of the lookout, if there's any infected or people, etc. Then you move on to the next area. Multiple areas? Great. Multiple places to deal with Joel and his attitude. You watch him sign your names followed by “fine” before he steps around you to return back to the horses. As he moves, his hip brushes your ass, moving you slightly forward with a grunt. Joel ignores it and keeps on walking. 

You follow behind him, bristling with aggravation. This is going to get you both nowhere. You briefly consider doing something to make him snap before you decide against it, realizing pissing him off more will probably not be good for you. You and Joel reach the horses and he wastes no time climbing onto his swiftly. He leaves in such a hurry that he nearly leaves you behind, and you're left scrambling onto your horse. You break him into a gallop to follow Joel, and suddenly you're racing through the woods down to the town you were just looking over. Did Joel think this was cute? In reality this is just slowly pissing you off. These mind games he's playing with you are getting old, and _fast_ . One second he's up your guts, the next he's dismissive, and now he's being… _cute_? You huff. Well, challenge accepted Miller. Challenge. Accepted. 

You slap your feet against the underbelly of your house, flapping the reins and encouraging him to go faster. If Joel wants to race, you're at least gonna give him a run for his money. It wouldn't be fair to fold. A grin splits your face, happily overtaking the place of a scowl. This is actually fun. You level up beside Joel and his head whips over to look at you. Surprise is evident in his face. _Eat your heart out, Miller!_

Joel sounds off a loud “HYA'' before trying to push his horse ahead of yours. He's huffing in genuine anger now, angry that he's losing a game he unintentionally started. You laugh at his frustration. If only Joel was like this all the time. 

“What's wrong Joel? Losing a race you started?” you snort at him before kicking your horse again, making him neigh and pick up the past just a little bit more. You were fairly ahead of Joel now, head bobbing and weaving between low tree branches. You felt alive. _This is fun!_

The two of you come upon the town, passing by a rusted out car, and you watch as Joel slows his horse down to a trot. Your shit eating grin is enough to convey to him how you feel; like a winner, baby. Joel rides up to a building and slides off his horse. You follow suit with glee. 

“Maybe next time Joel,” you say, patting him on the shoulder. He stiffens. You notice immediately but decide to ignore it. Joel walks through a large opening in the building, and you follow him through carefully. The hole opens into a shopping center, moreso a small shopping mall, and you whistle at the size. Joel turns to you and narrows his eyes, and you exhale loudly through your nose. You whip him the bird quickly before going back to investigating the mall, and you can nearly feel the surprise and anger roll off him. You chuckle and shake your head. He has to be bipolar. You don't exactly know if you should call this a _bad_ thing. A sick part of you almost likes the challenge. You don't romanticize mental illness, but you kind of like the complexities. It's always something new, even if some of it's bad. Still though, at this exact time it's frustrating as fuck. How can someone switch back and forth so much? You walk slowly through the mall and turn a corner, idly thinking about Joel and his convoluted mind. 

You feel the clicker on you before you see it or hear it. Adrenaline courses through you so thick and hot that your vision blurs, ears ringing as you struggle against the beast. Its rotted mouth snaps hungrily at your neck as you grunt and yell at it, trying to push it off you as you reach to your leg for your knife…

It isn't there. 

“Fuck!” You shriek, pushing against the clicker more. This is going to be the end of you for sure. Joel is going to let you get mangled by this monster. What an asshole. The bullet that flies through the clicker's head proves you wrong as soon as you think the words. You push away the twitching corpse of the clicker and put your hands on your knees, raking breaths into your burning lungs. Joel is in your face before you can recover. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he roars, grabbing you by the shoulders so you can gaze at his enraged face. “Where are your weapons?” 

“I forgot them…” you squeak out, the mixture of Joel’s proximity and your burning adrenaline making you weak. He shakes you. 

“You _forgot_ ‘em? Tommy should've known to not put you on patrol…” He chastises you, and his dismissive and patronizing tone of you spikes rage in your blood. You shove him away from you. 

“Don't you dare speak to me like I'm some.. Some errant _child_ , Joel!” You scream, fists balling at your sides. His eyes open in shock. 

“You clearly dont fucking know what youre doin’!” He’s in your face again. You grind your teeth. Your brain racks itself for a response before he speaks again. “If you don't wanna be treated like a child, don't act like one,” he growls, and your sight flashes red. Forget the fun little race you two just had. You're back to reeling about Joel being confusing. 

“You wanna talk about _me_ being childish?” You seethe. Joel flinches at your tone. “Let's talk about you then, Joel. I don’t know what your problem is. I won't pretend to know. But at least I don't play mind games with people!” 

He looks woundedly at you, yet you decide to continue, the anger from the past few hours boiling over at him. 

“One day you like me, the next you don't. One day you’re fingering me, the next you’re acting like I’m a fucking annoying kid! What the fuck Joel?!” You scream, your shoulders heaving hard at your yelling. Joel just looks at you. You take deep breaths, trying to calm down, and all Joel can do is look at you. Look and look and look. And suddenly he steps away, walking slowly over to the sign in sheet. He scribbles your names, slams the pen down, and leaves

You meet him out front, climb onto your horse, and ride back with him in bone chilling silence. Did you fuck up? No, you decide. He needed to know how you felt about everything. Could you have handled it better? Probably. Maybe you should apologize to him. You shake your head. Now isn't the time. He hasn't tried to apologize to you. You sigh heavily as you ride up the path, Jackson coming into view. Joel pushes his horse through the gate, vanishes into the stables, and then walks away from you, not a word is said your way. You watch his broad shoulders as he walks back to his house in silence. You feel guilty. You really do like Joel, and now you feel like a middle schooler who just got rejected by her crush. 

You get home, go upstairs, and fall straight into bed, mentallly exhausted from today. The next day you do your chores, and Joel passes by without even so much a glance in your direction. The next day is the same. Two days become three becomes seven, a week becomes two becomes a month, and Joel is still ignoring you. Ellie stops by often, a few times a week, and once a week you guys have a sleepover. She has game night in your house instead of Joel’s. She can tell something happened between you two, but she doesn't press you. You grow more and more fond of Ellie as the days go. 

You wish you could stop liking him so much. You've decided that maybe Joel just isn't ready for anything. Maybe you misread the situation. Maybe he never wanted you at all. All you know for certain is that even when he can act as if you don't exist for an entire month, _you_ still want _him_. You make new friends around Jackson, putting in great effort to be social, and while your days are fun, your nights are about Joel. Dreams are filled with him. His scent. His beard scratching your throat. His fingers stirring you. His ash brown colored eyes. Every night without fail he's there, making you long for him more and more. 

Every twenty-four hour span is the same. Until it isn't.

  
  



	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter tonight, saving my creative juices for a nice long chapter at the next update. <3 be well, drink water, I love you all

A rapid knocking at your door rouses your deep sleep. You glance over at the alarm clock tommy gave you, the red lines indicating it was around six in the morning. You briefly considered rolling over and going back to bed, but the knocking didn't end. Groggily you pulled your body out of your bed, down the stairs and to the front door to find a panicked Ellie standing in the doorway. 

“Hey kiddo, what's wrong?” you grumble out, voice deep and gravelly with sleep. Ellie pushes past you in a hurry. 

“(Y/n), somethings wrong, somethings very wrong. I-’’ she gulps. “I think I'm infected. I started bleeding and my body and head hurts and I'm so irritable and… and…” she weeps, eyes bulging in panic. Your heart softens. 

“Ellie, sweetheart,” you reach for her, pulling her in for a hug. She fights against you. 

“Don't touch me! I'm infected (y/n)! Why are you smiling?” You chuckle at her.

“Ellie, you've just gotten your first period,” you explain slowly. Ellie looks at you quizzically. “Didn’t they teach you about sex ed when you were growing up?” She shakes her head. You raise your brows in surprise. “Come, sit down and let me get you some caffeine. It’ll help with the migraine you probably have by now.”

Ellie plops down onto the couch, shaking gently as her panic leaves her body. You head toward the kitchen to make coffee. Poor girl.. You can't believe nobody had the sense to tell her about this when she was in school growing up. They told you all about it back when the world was normal, it's even more important to be informed now. Ellie is a late bloomer too, she should be around fifteen, and you thought most girls get it before their teenage years. Maybe it had to do with eating food with less hormones and all the stress going on around her. Maybe that's it- the stress. She finally gets her period a few months after she comes into a safe town? Definitely stress related. You put some coffee into mugs for the two of you, a little sugar in both before carrying the mugs out into the living room. You set hers on the table and sit on the couch, facing her while you bring your knees to your chest. 

“Ellie, what you have is something completely normal. It happens to all women. It’ll happen to you every month until you either get pregnant or get too old to get pregnant anymore,” you begin, and Ellie just looks at you in shock and horror. You giggle. “Your body prepares to get pregnant every month and loads what's called your uterus with super rich blood. After that's done, your body releases an egg down toward the uterus to make it easier for a man’s sperm to turn the egg into a baby. If the egg doesn't become a baby, the uterus doesn’t need it’s rich lining, so it sheds, hence cramps down here,” you poke her lower tummy, “and the blood.” Ellie just stares for a moment before erupting.

“I have to deal with this EVERY MONTH?” she shrieks, and her face pales. You reach out and brush her hair lightly. 

“Sorry hon, it's the hard truth,” you offer with a frown. She takes a sip of her coffee and then slumps over, and you smile slowly at her. Your smile fades once you remember her previous concern.

“Ellie? Why did you think you were infected?” You ask her slowly, gazing at her impassively. Is she keeping something from you? Ellie stills. Oh, she's  _ definitely _ keeping something from you. Ellie doesn't speak for a few minutes, and you wait for her to process her response to you. The longer you wait, the less likely you'll think it's the truth, but you aren't going to pester her. She looks at you slowly.

“I have something to tell you,” she whispers, head hanging low in guilt. Your eyes widen. “Around two years ago now, my best friend Rylee and I snuck outside of our zone after dark. We went to this shopping mall and explored all this cool shit, there was a halloween store and we played with water guns and…” Ellie pauses. You lean in closer to her, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. She sighs.

“She got bitten. And… so did I. She told me that it would be okay, that we could go out all poetic and just lose our minds together,” She rubs absentmindedly at her arm over her sleeve. Your eyes widen. “She turned and I put her down. I’m still… I’m still waiting for my turn.” Her shoulders droop in visible relief and then begin to shake lightly, the trauma and the hormones pushing her over the edge. You reach over and hug her shoulders, and Ellie turns to bury her head in your breasts, sobs racking her body. You set your coffee down carefully and hug her close, petting her hair and shushing her, telling her that  _ it wasn't your fault  _ and  _ it's okay.  _

The two of you stay like that long enough for the sun to begin peeking over the mountains, sunlight peeking through the low clouds and the trees, painting the sky bright orange and blue. You've gotten Ellie pretty calmed down at this point, her body shaking but her tears stopping. She sits back on her heels and looks up at you, face tear stained and blotchy. You smile. 

“I know what’ll make you feel better,” you whisper in a sing-song tone, wiping her tears away with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “Lets go get some breakfast.” She smiles and stands in time with you, and you carefully step into your shoes, your full coffee in one hand, the other on the wall supporting your weight. You open the door for her and she ducks below your arm before making her way down your steps. You follow gingerly. The air is cold this morning, your breath and the steam from the coffee causing clouds in the early morning sun. You’re dressed like a mom dropping her kid off at school. A pang makes its way through your chest. You guess you basically are a mom. Ellie comes to your for comfort and for guidance, unwavering trust between the two of you. You haven't known her long, but Ellie is very close to your heart, and you decide that you'd do anything to protect her. As you two reach Seth’s, a smile cracks through your face once again at the thought of how nice things are since you came to Jackson. For the first time in a while since Joel’s antics, you feel better. 

You open the door for Ellie and the two of you step inside, the bar being mostly empty. Most people aren't up for another hour or two. Seth greets you from behind the bar, bidding you both a good morning. You smile and wish him the same before asking for breakfast. He nods and vanishes into the next room. You lean on the bar and sip lazily at your coffee, enjoying the hot, caffeine filled liquid and the warmth it leaves in your chest. Your smile wavers for a moment, remembering how Joel and you shared a cup before everything happened. He was so nice and relaxed, and now it's all standoffish… you huff. You won't let this consume you forever. You hope, at least. 

Seth returns with two plates with pancakes and syrup on the side, and you roll your eyes in ecstasy. Pancakes, sweet jesus. You and Ellie happily take your plates, thanking him eagerly before taking a seat toward the middle of the empty room. You both sit and begin eating happily, shoveling large pieces of the cooked batter into your mouth, stopping only to take a sip of coffee to make the cake go down your throat better. You missed pancakes. You missed pancakes  _ so _ much. 

You and Ellie are both silent save for your happy grunts caused from zealous pancake-shoveling. Once you finish, you lean back and slide your sweatpants string down near your pubic bone, giving your belly room to bloat and expand. You sigh happily and sip from you coffee, watching Ellie finish her food. You smile at her. An immune girl… how remarkable. And how tragic. It removes one of the ways she can die naturally now… what a burden it must be. You don't envy her at all. But you are grateful she shared that with you. It cant have been easy. You reach forward and place your right hand over her left which has been sitting meekly on the table and you squeeze it. She looks up, puzzled. 

“Thank you for sharing your secret with me. I'm touched you trust me that much,” you whisper, and Ellie just stares for a moment before nodding. She doesn't need to reply with words, you know what she's thinking. She overturns her hand and holds yours back, an unspoken bond being solidified between the two of you. Trust is hard to give these days, but you have hers, and she has yours. The two of you sit with joined hands until Ellie finishes breakfast and the door to Seth’s bar swings open. You look over in brief curiosity to lock eyes with Joel, his eyes widening a fraction as he first sees you, then turning into a confused scowl when he sees you two holding hands. You slide your hand out from under Ellie’s and glance at your wrist, checking the time on your fake watch before sliding out of your chair. 

“It's about time for you to start working, I'll see you later kiddo, okay?” you say sweetly. Ellie nods and smiles, giving you a brief wave as you walk by her. You walk by Joel, not even giving him a second glance on your way out the door. He’s still ignoring you, so you're going to ignore him right back. Eye for an eye. You push through the doors of the bar and out onto the porch, turning back to close the doors behind you. Joel’s eyes lock with yours as the boards meet. You sigh. 

Your feelings for him just haven't gone away. Not even a little bit. For weeks you’ve sat awake at night, thinking and thinking and thinking about what goes on in his mind. Hoping you can crack the code. You desperately try to remind yourself that it's not good to try to diagnose what's wrong with someone, but this scathes you so deeply you must know, you must figure it out to help your own feelings. It feels stupid and selfish. You trudge back to your house in the early morning light of the day, the last remains of morning dew turning into small ice droplets. Winter was coming. You're certain of that. Your breath lightly fogs and a breeze carries it away. 

Time for another twenty-four hour span. 

You climb into your house, change into your clothes for the day, and then head off to do your chores. Tommy has you helping organize storage and do laundry.  _ Yippee.  _ You dutifully get to your assignment, making quick work of the storage barn and folding the laundry before Tommy approaches you. 

“Mind if I borrow you for a bit?” He asks, and you look at him with furrowed brows for a moment before nodding. “We need a third for an afternoon patrol. Get your gear and meet me at the stables,” he says simply, walking away. You frown. You run to your house, get your things, and then get to meeting Tommy. A three person patrol? That's strange.  _ Please don’t be with Joel, please don’t be with Joel… _

Relief washes over you when you see Ellie sitting atop a horse. She wiggles excitedly at you, and you grin from ear to ear, your hand producing a small wave. You bound over to the horse next to her, climb on, and settle yourself. There's another horse without a rider, but nobody else is in the stables.  _ That’s odd.  _ Footsteps pull you from your thoughts, and your head immediately turns to the source of the noise. Your adrenaline spikes, head growing warm at the sight. 

Joel saunters in wearing a green flannel, black form fitting jeans, and a tan brown jacket. The combination does things to you. You sigh. 

_ Dammit.  _

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

You shake your head, trying to ignore your heady attraction to Joel. He's an emotionally unavailable bastard, but God, is he good looking. You can spare a once over, surely. His scruff lines his jaw, the angular bones being forced out in contrast to the hair. The flannel brings out his broad chest, the material hugging his pectorals as if it's his skin, and the jacket brings out his broad shoulders, highlighting their width and making him look sturdy, large. The jeans hug his thighs and go slack toward his ankles. Your eyes loom between his legs, and the way the dark denim hugs his groin wakes your mouth water. You look up at his face, his eyes watching yours, and you know he's caught you. You quickly look away, fidgeting with the saddle beneath you. 

He slowly walks over to his horse, his eyes watching you as he walks before he slings himself over the back and into the saddle. He's such a smug bastard. The grin on his soft lips is beyond cheeky. You roll your eyes at him and wait to head out. He trots in front of Ellie, pushing her lightly as he goes by, and she offers him a loud “heeeeeey” before rushing after him. You laugh at the spectacle and follow. The sun shines brightly in your face, it being late enough in the day that it's fully shining over the tall walls of Jackson. Judging by the placement, it's around elevenish, maybe noon. You somehow wasted four hours doing fucking arbitrary chores like laundry and organizing. You shudder. This is definitely more entertaining. Joel seems to be having a good day today, mood wise. Maybe he's bipolar. You laugh at yourself. _Probably._

The three of you make your way through the gates and head East, past the overlook and the mall, heading off into a new part of town you've never been in before. The area is decrepit, looking as if a natural disaster came through, and it makes you feel uneasy. Something feels very wrong. Something must _be_ very wrong, seeing as this needed to be a three person patrol, and the normal groups are groups of two. You keep your eyes peeled, constantly watching the area around Ellie. This gut feeling tells you to watch for her. You three continue to ride through the decaying streets, making rounds as if to make sure everything was in its proper place. Up and down streets, checking alleyways and crevices. Nothing happens. It's been two hours of just riding, the steady clop of your horse’s hooves against asphalt. The feeling won’t go away. 

You three make it to a little culdesac of shops, and get off your horses. The hair on the back of your neck stands up. Your feet tense in your shoes. Something is very off. Your back crouches and you place a hand on your pistol, sitting snugly between your back and the band of your jeans. Ellie looks at you skeptically, a brow raising at you. You don't look at her. Your eyes are scanning the tops of the buildings around you, searching in windows and on ledges. You slink your pistol out into the open, cock it, and continue looking. You can't find anything, but this feeling is persisting like an unscratchable itch. You straighten your back and follow Joel into a building to your right, letting Ellie go in in front of you. With one more glare to the buildings outside, you enter through boarded doors. This looks like a small mom and pop hardware store. Joel produces a list from his pocket, and Ellie begins poking around near some shelves behind you. You step back and hover near her side. She eyes you speculatively. 

“Uh, whatcha doin’?” she queries. You don't look at her when you respond. 

“Something isn't right here,” you mumble, and Joel stiffens when you speak. Can he feel it now that you pointed it out, or does he trust your instinct? Most likely the former. Ellie snickers. 

“(Y/n), everything is fine,” she says dismissively, waving her hand. She turns back around and continues leafing through the various tools when you see it. A singular flash of light from a third story window across the street. Adrenaline sears through your veins. Immediately, you throw yourself at Ellie, using your hand to cradle her head from slapping off the concrete. Your ears are ringing, but you hear wood above you cracking. Right where Ellie’s head was, there's a splintering bullethole. You quickly slide the both of you into the corner. You don't even look around for Joel. You grab Ellie’s face and study it, looking into her eyes to make sure her brain isn't injured from the fall. 

“Are you okay?!” You practically scream in her face. Her green eyes bore back into your face, shocked, pupils blown in fear. You pet her face. “Ellie, honey, are you okay?” Ellie nods her head, and you sag in relief and hug her close, grateful for the fact you moved her just in time. If you hadn’t… You can't even stomach the idea. She grips onto your back, shaking beneath you, and you hold her there for a second before you know you need to snap the both of you out of it. You rub her shoulders and sit her up, telling her to sit low and sit quiet. She heaves a deep breath and nods in response, slinking and sliding down into the corner for cover. You get onto your toes, using your knees as support while you slide to the window. You move your right eye just enough into the clearing of the window so you can see, trying to keep your body behind the wall. 

The room where the shot came from is empty, the gunman probably knowing he is busted to hell and now royally fucked. You turn back into the corner and look around for Joel. Your eyes lock, his body slouched under the other window, and theres a spark between the two of you, a link forming. You gesture to the building across the street and mouth the words _third_ _story._ Joel nods in understanding. He mouths _bandits_ as a response. Of course, that's why this is a three person patrol route; this is a bandit town. Fucking wonderful. You roll your eyes and huff in exasperation. There’s only one way to figure out how many of them there are. 

Boldly, you poke your head out above the windowsill. You hear Joel curse next to you followed by shuffling. You see the telltale glint and quickly duck again, two shots ripping through the air where your head just was. Sniper guy was definitely still there. Joel grabs your attention, moving your face to look at his. 

“What the _fuck_ are you doin’?” He growls. You shamefully feel it deep in your belly, ashamed of your response to his tone and the timing of it. A small blush rises in your cheeks before you regain your bearings, grabbing his wrist and throwing it away from your face in anger. 

“Finding out if that fucker is still over there,” you state simply, smiling at him with a mock sweetness. You look over his shoulder at the doorway to an adjoining room before looking back over to Ellie. 

“Listen to me honey,” you begin slowly, “I need you to stay here.” Ellie scoffs.

“Like hell! That fucker almost killed me!” She yells back. You shush her. 

“Which is exactly why I want you to _stay your ass here._ Stay with Joel.” You say through gritted teeth. She looks at you dumbfoundedly, and looking over your shoulder lets you know that Joel is too. He shakes his head. 

“You’re not goin’ alone.” He states simply, and you roll your eyes at him before giving him a “stay with Ellie” look. He shakes his head. “They know you’re in ‘ere. Let me go flank ‘em, you keep ‘em distracted for me,” he offers in repose. You pause a beat before nodding slowly, offering to cover him while he goes across the street. He smiles at you, the briefest smile you’ve ever seen, before snapping back to reality. He slinks against the wall of the store and into the adjoining room. A metal door creaks as he opens it, and he’s gone. You turn back to Ellie, who has a knowing look in her eyes, but she says nothing. You crouch and cover her body with yours, total silence enveloping you both. You strain your ears, listening hard for any other bandits. You find it hard to believe that they have one man standing watch, how could they be so stupid. Theyre dumb enough to be fucking with you, but to be fucking with you in a three-on-one fight? No way. 

You peek a little over the windowsill and you spot Joel slinking into the doorway of the building with the sniper. You smile a bit and move back behind cover. Fast and capable. You just wish… you shake your head. This pining over Joel is ridiculous. The man probably doesn't think about you, yet you sit here obsessing every day over him. It’s insanity. Why does he consume your thoughts like this? What happened to not letting people in? You feel stupid. You bury your head in your hands and rub your face a few times. You’ll confront him. You've decided. When you get the chance, you're confronting this situation. 

After five minutes, Joel is back, hand holding a decent looking rifle. You nod at him before helping Ellie up off the ground. Within seconds he's laying into her. 

“What have I told you about watchin’ your back?” He grouches, and Ellie huffs exasperatedly. “Don’ get that attitude with me. I just want you to be smart and safe.”

“How was I supposed to see an invisible sniper? Besides, (y/n) got me out of the way. You should be thanking her for saving my life if you want it safe so bad. Jesus Joel,” she grabs her forehead in frustration. The spectacle makes you cringe. You grab Joel’s shoulder, turning him to face you.

“It's fine to be stressed about it, but don’t take the stress out on her like she did something wrong… It's over now, can we just go home please?’’ You say, arms flopping at your sides. Joel looks at you for a long moment before grimacing and walking away without a word. You groan. He is so exasperating. You turn to Ellie.

“Men can never gracefully accept wrongfulness, huh?” You nudge her playfully. She rolls her eyes.

“Especially that one,” she whispers out of the corner of her mouth. The two of you giggle. “Thank you for saving me, by the way.’’ Her tone makes you soften a bit.

“Anything for you. I really care about you, kid,” you say, looping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a noogie. She grumbles and pushes herself from your arms before walking back to the horses in silence. Despite your joking with her, something seems to be eating at her. You won't push, but you desperately want to know what it is. 

The rest of the ride home is silent. The sun is starting to dip below the horizon now, the sky becoming a painting of oranges, pinks and purples. The air around the three of you, specifically Joel and Ellie, is full of tension. When you arrive back in Jackson, the two part from each other without a word. The feeling you had back in the town returns. Something isn't right. You get dinner at Seth’s, eat quietly by yourself, and then return home. You settle on the couch, open _The Catcher in the Rye,_ and start reading. 

_A few pages in, there’s a knocking at your door. You finish the line you were on in the book, dog ear the page, and get up gingerly. You open the door for the knocker and Joel pushes past you, causing you to step back. He closes the door for you and you gaze at him in bewilderment._

_“Joel.” You say flatly when you recover. You cross your arms._

_“I want to talk to you, about… this.” He gestures between the both of you. Your eyebrows shoot up in shock, your jaw slackening._

_“Go head, then.” You say, visibly relaxing. Joel takes an experimental step toward you. The back of his hand gently caresses your face. You lean into his touch, savering the warm, callused feel of his hand against your smooth face._

_“I’m sorry I’ve been treatin’ you wrong. I’m not good at the whole romance thing,” he admits shyly. You gaze up at him._

_“It’s okay, thank you for talking with me about it,” you offer gently, your hand reaching up to stroke the inside of his wrist. He sighs heavily._

_“I want to try, though.” He says levely. Your breath hitches in your throat, and he leans down experimentally to kiss you. You stand on your toes, lips meeting his in the middle for a soft, sweet kiss. This feels right. You've wanted to hear that for so long, and now you finally have..._

It's a knocking on your door that wakes you. You grumble. You must've fallen asleep while reading. You rub your blush from your dream off of your face before you get up on wobbly legs and open the door. Ellie is waiting for you on the porch. 

“Hey honey, come inside,” you step to the side, She walks in, tension rolling off her in waves. There's a chill in the room. You walk over to light the fireplace, and Ellie plops down on your couch. While the fire takes to the logs, you sit across her on the couch, face inquisitive. 

“What’s wrong, I can tell something’s up,” you say quietly. She sighs and turns to face you. 

“Can I… Talk to you? About something personal?”

“Of course Ellie, anything you want,” you say, reaching out and rubbing her knee affectionately. She sighs.

“It’s about my life… before Jackson.” She breathes, staring at the fire. You lean your head, silently asking her to _go on._

“Before I was with Joel, a woman named Marlene was taking care of me. She was the leader of the Fireflies,” she begins, and you stiffen momentarily before nodding in understanding. You knew very well of the Fireflies and their agenda… “She was taking care of me before I found out I’m immune. After we found out… That's all my life became about. They wanted to use me to make a vaccine. _I_ wanted to be used to make a vaccine. My life was supposed to mean something, (y/n).” She says, fists clenching into her jeans. 

“Joel and this other woman were supposed to take me to other Fireflies so they could make a vaccine. After a few days, it was just Joel and I, looking for the Fireflies for months. We began to give up hope. I began to lose my drive… Then one day, Joel got really fucked up while we were looking in this building. He fell on a spike and it went through his whole body. I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do. For months my whole life became about saving Joel, and I did it. Joel became a father to me after that,” her voice cracks a bit. You scooch over to her and put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

“Then a few months later we finally found the Fireflies. They took me into this hospital and they told me I was gonna help them make a vaccine. Then they put me to sleep. When I woke up, I was in the back of a truck, on my way back here. Joel said…” Her voice branches off, pain breaking through her. Her shoulders heave in a small sob, and you hug her closer, letting her cry freely while you rub her back. 

“He told me that they stopped looking for a vaccine,” she continues. “That there's others like me, and that they just gave up trying. My entire purpose for life just… given up on.” She cries in earnest now, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You know how this feels, this suffocating, abysmal darkness. Aimless, like you're just meandering through all of your days like a zombie. Wanting to die but being too lazy to kill yourself. It wrenches your heart that Ellie feels like this. You let her cry until its out of her system, wiping away her tears with her sleeve.

“Your life isn't meaningless, Ellie,” you tell her quietly. “You have friends, you have me. You have a whole life to live now here. You have people who love you. Especially Joel.” She grimaces.

“I think Joel is lying to me,” she says quietly. You're taken aback by this. Joel, lie about something that big? Why would he do that? The idea is implausible. 

“Why do you say that?” You ask. She turns to face you, face tear stained and eyes red. 

“Why would they just give up? It's a vaccine to save humanity. They wouldn't just give up. And if there were others like me, there would be a vaccine already. My gut is just constantly telling me something is wrong,” she rants. “And after today, I’ve learned to trust gut feelings.”

You look at her with surprise. 

“So what will you do?” You implore, panic rising in your voice. She shakes her head.

“I have no idea. Confronting him does nothing, he tells me the same shit every fucking time,” she grumbles. “I don't know what to do anymore. But I have to know the truth. I have to find out for myself.” 

You shake your head.

“Ellie, I know you’re upset, but don't do anything rash. Acting out of feeling never gets anyone anywhere,” you explain, thinking back to Joel that one night. Clearly, he was out of his head.

“I need to do something! I can’t just live with this feeling for the rest of my fucking life!” You flinch back from her and sigh.

“I understand. Whatever you do, you know you have my support. Just as long as it’s not crazy, and you’re safe. Your life and safety matters a lot to me.” You say. Ellie takes a large breath.

“Can I ask you for a favor? A weird one?” She asks. You smile and nod. “Can I lay my head on your lap and have you play with my hair?”

Your heart melts at the request. A simple show of comfort. You nod immediately, enthusiastically even. Your niece had you do this for her when she woke up from a nightmare when you babysat her. You give Ellie room to lay down on the couch, and she rests her head in your lap, skull being supported by plush, muscular thigh. You gingerly comb your fingers through her hair, detangling and massaging as you go. You feel the muscles in her shoulders relax immediately, and after a few seconds Ellie is out like a light, tension sated by your fingers and the warmth from the fire. You lean your head back on the couch and try to sort out the information you’ve just been loaded with. 

If Joel was lying, what would his reason be? What could his reason be for stopping the creation of a world saving vaccine? You couldn’t even imagine. All you know for certain is that you’re glad that weight wasn't put on you. You know the gravity of the situation, but you don’t even know what you yourself would choose. You rather not dwell on it. 

Your eyes grow heavy, slipping closed one or two times before locking shut in a deep sleep. 

It's another knocking that wakes you up. Frantic, panicked, loud knocking. You look down at your lap- Ellie is gone. Furrowing your brows, you stand. You swing the door open quickly.

Joel’s panicked eyes meet yours. 

“Where is she?” He asks, pushing through your door into your house. He runs up your stairs, frantically searching your house for… Oh no. Ellie is _gone._ Joel joins you back in the living room. “Where is she?!” He roars in your face. You blink. 

“I...She- she came here last night talking about the Fireflies… and the hospital,” you offer him. She never told you where it was. But she said she needed answers. You know exactly what she did. And by the looks of it, so does Joel. The color drains from his face, and he spares no time in your house. He rushes through the door, sprinting to the stables down the way. Your heart sinks. 

Ellie is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What would YOU do if you were Joel? Let Ellie die for the vaccine or spare her?


	12. Chapter 12

A week goes by. Ellie is gone. Joel is gone now too. Nobody knows where they went. All of her friends are sad. Tommy and Maria seem off too. You’re sad. You feel dramatic, but the world generally seems bleak. Worry has her talons at your neck, wringing and choking you. Ellie was so upset, and she left and did something crazy to get her answers. You want to feel liberated for her, but your growing maternal instincts and your new connection to her prevents you from championing this. She’s a young girl traveling out there on her own. You know she knows what the world is, but just because someone knows what the world is, it doesn't make them immune to all the evils therein. 

Joel’s anguished eyes overtake your thoughts. Joel has known loss before, it's so apparent in his eyes that day. Frantic, wide, pupils blown in complete panic. His fatherly instincts on high alert toward his missing child. Knowing that he is directly the cause makes you despair for him. Ellie feels wronged by him, the pieces of his narrative puzzle just not quite sticking properly, and now she’s gone. Where did they go? How long will it be until they get back? Will they ever get back? Your head hurts. The constant thinking and the sitting around waiting for them is rotting away at your brain. 

Two weeks go by. Your restlessness has peaked. You’ve taken to working out in the evenings to burn off extra energy. It helps, but not by much. Not enough. You’ve read all of your books in your house. Watched every movie you could find. Boredom mounts. Why are you so overwhelmed by this? You miss them so much. You miss Joel so much. He hardly speaks to you, but knowing he sleeps next door, knowing he's alive and safe was comforting to you. Your feelings for him persist. You hate that. You’ve never had this kind of draw to another person before. He gives you nothing, but at this point you don't even care. You'd rather him here, safe and ignoring you, than out there doing god knows what. 

By the third week you’ve cracked. You started taking extra assignments from Tommy to pass the time. He frowns at you every time you ask, but he knows better than to stop you. He gives you extra patrols, extra shifts in the armory, time grooming the horses. It helps for a while. You make new friends, idle chit chat for once welcome. The women gossip, the men subtly flirt with you. You don't mind it. It takes away the worry. But they aren't there at night. When Tommy runs out of things for you to do, he suggests you start adventuring around some stores and such to find new books, movies,  _ something.  _ You like his idea. 

You mount your horse, whom you've now affectionately named Rojo for his deep, terracotta skin. He stomps excitedly, always happen to be taken out, and when you urge him forward he shows no resistance. His strong legs carry you down and into the same town you went to with Joel and Ellie. The thought burns your head, a small twang playing your heart strings. You hope they’re okay. Wherever they are. You dismount your horse, stepping into the music store quietly. Maybe some new music will suit you well. You pick up random records from random artists of random genres, hoping to get some things you've never heard before. You find a small cd and cassette player duo, which you happily stuff in your duffle bag. You grab handfuls of cassettes and cds and stuff them in the bag when a book with bright colors catches your eyes. You pick it up gingerly and dust the rubble and grime off the protective plastic. 

“Savage Starlight: Singularity,” you read off quietly. Something tells you Ellie would be into this sort of thing. You stick it in your bag and smile to yourself. Exiting the music store, you pat Rojo on his butt as you pass. Across the street is a small general store, and down the street is a library, then a store that just sells a mix of everything. You don’t really know what to call it, stores like that were just like indoor garage sales. You step inside the general store, eyes skimming the fairly barren walls. There didn’t seem to be much here, save for some notebooks and pens. All food was of course scavenged years ago. You poke behind the counter and find some gauze, but a tin canister catches your eyes. You smile and reach for the large can, hoping it's what you think it is. You peel back the black plastic lid and you're met with a white protective seal. You're positively giddy. 

Peeling the white plastic rewards you with the strong and bitter smell of instant coffee. Your eyes roll. You’ve essentially found gold. Totally unopened instant coffee. You gleefully stuff it into your bag before standing and leaving the store with a grin on your face. You head back to Rojo, take his reins and gingerly walk him down the street toward the all-in-one-place store. Inside there's knick-knacks, furniture, clothes, toys, just about everything you could think of. You walk Rojo inside the tall doors and let him hang out inside the building, the walls providing him cover from the chilly wind. Winter is right around the corner. The windows of the houses in Jackson have frost on their edges most mornings. The idea excites you. 

Meandering through the clothes, you find a few articles you yourself would like, and a nice pair of winter boots that are just a tad bigger than your own size. You shrug. The extra space gives you room to wear extra socks. You stuff your new boots into your bag then head toward the section with random shit in it. You find a few cute wood carvings of animals, a bear, a cat, a dog and put them in your bag. Filler for your shelves. The place even has a few blankets left, the soft sherpa kind that everyone went ballistic for back pre-outbreak. You fold them up and squeeze them in the bag, excited to curl up under them later tonight. 

Your trip to the library is fruitless. There aren't any books that interest you even in the least, and what books are there, you’ve already read them. You sulk back to Rojo and climb atop him, apologizing to him for the extra weight while you pet his ears. The walk back to Jackson is slow and quiet, but on the way there it begins to snow. Small, crystalline flurries melt on your jacket and on Rojo’s skin, sticking to the ground and giving it a small skin of white. You smile. You hope Ellie is home in time to experience at least a little bit of a Christmas. 

When you ride through the gates of Jackson, everyone is bustling about. Kids are playing in the falling flurries, adults are packing things away and getting out lights and decorations. You laugh at the spectacle before you. People here actually try to celebrate Christmas. It's darling. How they actually know when Christmas is, you have no idea. But A+ for effort. You put Rojo away in his stall and lug your heavy bag home, relieved when you sling it onto the couch. You unzip and then unpack. You take out your new blankets and lay them over the back of the couch, and leave the rest of them haphazardly folded on the cushion. You put your new boots by the fireplace, and throw your new clothes in the wash, save for a grey hoodie. You eagerly pull the hoodie over your torso, deciding this was going to be your newest comfort item. Who doesn’t love hoodies. You leave your coffee on the kitchen counter before placing your figurines around the house on various shelves. 

The cd/cassette player sits next to the couch with your pile of assorted music sloppily stacked next to it. All in all, you had a good haul today, and it definitely made you feel a bit better. Its dark outside now, but you don’t have much of an appetite, your hunger being sapped away by the small ball of anxiety that now has a home in your stomach. You instead opt for a relaxing night in front of your fire with your new tapes. You rummage through your house in search of any batteries, and you smile widely when you find two double A’s- exactly what the device needs. You plug them in, throw in a tape, and curl up in front of a fire, one of your new fluffy blankets encasing you. This tape seems to be Johnny Cash’s greatest hits. You smile, thinking of Joel and his country music, before you doze. 

Knocking seems to have replaced your alarm clock. You wake with a start at the loud noise, glancing at the window to see its pitch black outside. Your fire is nothing but embers. How long were you asleep? You groggily shuffle your way to the door, blanket wrapped tightly around you. 

Ellie is at your doorstep. She rushes at you and grips you in a hug while you stand completely dumbfounded. Ellie’s presence isn't registering. Your brain isn't piecing it together at all. The small shake of her shoulders is what brings you back to the now. You shut the door and then wrap her in your blanket, holding her while she cries. When her movements calm, you speak.

“Ellie…” Is all you can manage. You don’t even know what to say to her. Where were you? What the hell were you thinking? You just don't know. 

“I was right,” she wheezes out, voice tired from crying. “He lied.” You stiffen, jaw slack in shock. Joel lied to her? Why?! You lead her to the couch, throw another log on the fire, and then turn to her attentively, your face letting her know she should speak. 

“He lied to me about everything.” She says, voice small and defeated. Your body lurches forward. “He told me that making a vaccine would’ve killed me. So he stopped them.” She says plainly, exhausted from the revelation. You do nothing but look at her. Your heart sinks at the admission. What could you even say? That Joel loves her, so he couldn’t let her die? Even if that’s the case, it wasn't his choice to make. Ellie wanted to give her life to the cause. You bury your face in your hands. You need to say something. Ellie came seeking your comfort. 

“I’m sorry, Els.” You say quietly, and she nods.

“How could he?” She says lowly, voice almost a growl. You decide giving her an honest response would be best, even if she gets angry at you at first. 

“Joel loves you. You’re like his daughter. He couldn't just let you die,” you begin, and Ellie's head flips up to scowl at you. You hold up a finger. “I’m not saying that makes it okay. He should’ve done what you wanted. I’m just trying to make sense of all of… this.” 

Ellie is tense. She doesn’t say anything for a while, just stares at the fire from her seat next to you. Before long, she speaks up quietly.

“Not anymore.” She whispers as she stands and leaves your house. You stare at the door she just left through and sigh.

You honestly can't say you would've done any better. You lost your niece once. If you had someone like Ellie to be taking care of, you don’t honestly know if you could just easily let her die for the greater good of the people. It's extremely selfish, and the thought makes you feel guilty as hell, but that's the truth. A vaccine would only save humanity from the virus, but it wouldn't undo all the damage done to society. It wouldn't bring the dead people back. The world will never be the same, even with the vaccine. You cringe at how pessimistic it sounds, but that's the truth. There’s too much loss, too much corruption that the world will never be able to go back to the way it was again. 

Maybe Ellie was too obsessed with the idea of her life having to  _ mean _ something. Her idea of meaning is skewed. This world has taught her that the only way for your life to have meant something is for you to die. The thought is saddening. Her life means more while it continues to go on. Alive, she's cherished for years, loved by many. An energetic, humorous teenager. But dead, she would just be a name. The idea saddens you. This situation is hideously fucked up. 

Your mind flickers to Joel. This can’t be affecting him well. Ellie is so hurt and betrayed by him, you can guess she’s going to completely cut him off from herself now. You remember Joel’s panic, his intense fear when he realized Ellie was gone. He really does love her like she’s his own, and now he’s lost that over a choice he made. Your heart hurts. Would it be wrong of you to comfort Joel? Ellie comes to you for support, how would she feel if you comforted the person she was wronged by? In your defense, Ellie knew how you felt about Joel. You didn’t exactly tell her much, but she inferred enough on her own. Joel wouldn't even want your comfort and support anyway, he’s proven that to you. 

Too bad you’re a tough person to shake once you’re invested. You know Joel has his own issues, and you don't want to blame his behavior toward you on how he actually is as a person. It seems like a coping mechanism.It reminds you of how you act. An idea appears in your head. A Non-verbal way to show him you’re still here for him to confide in if he ever chose to. You know that all people need sometimes is a person in their corner if they need them. 

You rise from the couch and walk into the kitchen. You pick up the canister of coffee you found today and roll it around in your hands. You and Joel both bonded over coffee the first time you two were alone. A small token of knowing. You pull on a jacket and boots and tiptoe out of your house and down your stairs. You're hoping Joel is asleep so he doesn’t see you putting the coffee on his front porch. You don’t care that he’ll figure out it was you, you just don't exactly want him to see you doing it. You put your feet in his larger footprints that he left in the snow, place the coffee down on his steps and then back you go to your own house. Mission accomplished. Coffee delivered. 

The next day the coffee is still there, untouched. You frown as you walk by on your way to patrol. When you come home, it’s still there. The coffee sits there for three days, completely untouched. You start to worry. Joel must not be in a good place  _ at all.  _ To lay in a stupor for days at a time.. Jesus Christ. Tommy shakes his head sadly when you ask him about it. He says Joel hasn't left the house in days to his knowledge. You frown. On the fourth morning the coffee is finally gone, and you smile to yourself. At least you know Joel isn't dead. There's even a new pair of tracks from his steps when you come home in the evening. A small smile graces your face. He must be on the mend.

You build yourself a fire and decide to reread one of the books in your house, settling on the cheesy teenage girl series Dawn of the Wolf. The books really weren’t that bad. The movies were… movies. But you always liked the books growing up. You settle in in front of the fire and start reading. You manage to get halfway through the book before yet another knocking interrupts your reading. 

“What the fuck is it with books?” You grumble as you dog ear the page and stand on numb legs. You quickly toss another log on the fire before stomping over to the door and throwing it open in frustration. A large shadow that smells like bourbon looms in the doorway, and you take a precautionary step back. The figure follows with a heavy footstep, and the light from the fire illuminates the side of a face. 

“Joel?” You ask quietly, moving closer to inspect him. He lifts his head to look at you, his face bordering on ghastly. His eyes are bloodshot, dark bags forming under them. He looks beyond tired. 

“Why didya’ give me the coffee?” He slurs out, and your face softens. You reach out for his shoulder.

“Come on, let’s sit you down, okay?” You ask softly, and he stumbles and follows you, snow sticking to his boots and wetting your carpet. It must be snowing pretty hard outside; Joel’s entire torso is covered in fast melting flakes. You kick the front door shut and walk behind Joel, now slumped over on your couch. 

“Lean forward, let me take off your coat,” you command, hoping to prevent him from getting your blankets wet. He unzips his coat slowly and shrugs out of it for you. You hang it up before looking over at him. His hair drips from the melted snow, a small puddle forming on your carpet from where his head is slumped over. You feel a lump in your throat. You’ve never seen Joel look so broken. You wrap your blanket around his shoulders and move to your kitchen to grab a towel for his hair. He sits still as you lean over his back and softly dry his locks, humming appreciatively as you massage his head. When you're done, you lay the towel down in front of the fire to dry and sit down on the couch, facing him. 

Joel looks absolutely defeated at your living room floor, and you decide to answer his question. 

“I figured you might need a pick-me-up, after…” Your voice trails off, unsure of if you should reveal to him that you know about what happened. He scoffs lightly. 

“That’s a fuckin’ understatement.” He growls. You cringe. 

“You don’t have to talk to me about it,” you say gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But I’m here to listen if you want to.” 

Joel pauses in his breathing for a moment before sitting back on the couch and looking over at you. His jaw is clenched. You really hope you aren’t crossing any of his very visible boundaries, but he did come here on his own after all, so maybe he does actually want to talk. He sighs heavily. 

“M’ I gon’ hear it from you, too?” He slurs, his Texan accent more apparent when he's drunk. “How fucked up what I did was? How ‘m an asshole?” 

You shake your head slowly. “I can’t say I would've done differently.” You say plainly. “I’m glad Ellie’s alive, she's a good kid. Sure, having a vaccine would be nice, but the vaccine doesn’t fix everything wrong with the world. Dead people don’t come back. It just takes away one of our ways to die.” you say simply. Joel stiffens.

“You should’ve talked to her about it before you did it. She’s hurt that what she wanted wasn’t even taken into consideration. But I can’t say I’d have done differently…” You finish, a wistful tone overtaking your voice. If you loved Ellie the way Joel does, after the death of Rylee, you probably wouldn’t be able to let her go either. 

Joel turns to you slowly, eyes wide. He’s shocked. He must’ve been getting crazy amounts of shit from anyone who knew what happened if he’s reacting this way at you essentially siding with him. He just looks at you, jaw tense and shoulders squared, completely silent. You look at him back, his face being illuminated by the warm glow of the fire even better now. The glow reaches his right eye, lighting it up, bringing out its deep brown and hidden green tones. He's the one to break the contact. 

“I’m sorry.” He says plainly, shoulders slumping guiltily. You furrow your brows. 

“Over what?” You ask simply. 

“‘Bout what happened, the thing after the bar.” He whispers. Your heart rate picks up.  _ Oh.  _

“Why are you sorry…?” You ask slowly, hoping he's not trying to say he regrets it.  _ Please don’t regret it.  _

“I shouldnta’ acted like that, ‘s not proper,” he hiccups. You smile.  _ That’s sweet.  _

“I didn’t mind it…” You whisper, drawing small circles in the fabric of the blanket. “Who’s to say what's proper anymore, anyway.” 

Joel stiffens at this. He looks up at you through his dark lashes, gaze powerful.  _ Gosh. I wish you weren’t drunk, Joel.  _

“I wanna treat you like a lady.” He says with finality, and you can't help but blush and laugh at him. “Im serious!” He says, getting frustrated from you laughing at him. This makes you laugh harder. 

“Joel, you’re drunk!” You giggle at him, and he huffs exasperatedly. 

“That’s the only way I can talk to ya, (y/n),” he explains. You blush harder at this, ears heating at the confession. 

“Why?” You ask, but quickly have a realization. “Actually no. Don’t tell me while you're drunk.” 

Joel tilts his head at you. 

“Why is that?” He smiles. You roll your eyes at him. 

“I want you to tell me when you’re sober, it’ll just… be different.” You explain. He nods

“I still mean it,” he says lowly. “I wanna treat you right. Like a lady should be.” He leans a little closer to you. You press your back against the arm of the couch. He’s pinned you. You gulp.  _ Keep him talking, keep his mouth busy. _

“How’s that?” You whisper back. His tongue darts out between his chapped lips to wet them. 

“Bring ya coffee in bed in the mornings,” he whispers back, inching closer to you with each passing second. “Keep ya warm and fed and happy.” He grumbles. You blush again.  _ I feel like a fucking teenager!  _ You bring your lip between your teeth, nibbling gently. Joel's large hand grabs your chin, lightly tugging your lip free. 

“Don’ do that, you'll hurt ‘em.” He mumbles, eyes fixated on your lips. “That’s my job.” Your chest tightens, and you desperately try to keep your blood on the northern half of your body, but with the way Joel is leaning in and the way he smells and the way he looks and the way he  _ sounds,  _ it's all too much. Your guts tighten. 

“Joel,” you wheeze out, trying to remind him that he's drunk and you don’t want him doing anything he shouldn't be doing. Anything he’ll regret…

“Mm?” He grunts, eyes looking up into yours. His pupils have nearly completely taken over his irises, and the sight makes your lids slip closed marginally.

“You’re drunk… I don’t want you to do anything you'll... Regret,” the words leave your lips in a breath, the last word tightening your chest. 

“I’d never regret kissing you,” He says darkly. Your breath leaves your lungs in a huff, his words having stolen all of your resolve. His hand moves to the side on your face, cupping your cheek and ear lovingly. Your eyelids flutter at the contact. It was nice to romanticize about this happening, but now that it’s actually happening, you're scared.  _ Terrified.  _

Could you handle loving someone again and risk having them leave? 

“You’re beautiful, d’ya know that?” Joel mumbles, his nose brushing against yours, and slowly his words steal your fear. Maybe Joel would keep you safe and happy and loved until one of you died. The thought is bleak, but it sates your fear. Your fingers reach out and brush against the front of his shirt, hand gently balling up the cloth and gripping it, using it as an anchor. 

When Joel closes the gap, the kiss is soft, as if he's afraid of breaking you. A sickeningly sweet, soft touch, as if he’s kissing the head of a baby. You experimentally meet him in the middle, putting some more pressure into the kiss, and he leans into it, his other hand cradling his face. You reach up and cup his face too, your fingers sliding through his beard, and he makes an appreciative noise deep in his chest. 

After a moment, you slowly slide down to lay down on the couch, and Joel hovers above you, the kiss deepening as he tentatively licks at your lower lip. He settles his knees between your legs, his left hand supporting him above you, his right hand never leaving its purchase on your face. He pulls away, allowing you both to catch your breath, before resting his forehead on yours. He places a kiss on your nose before sliding down the couch and resting his head on your chest, nuzzling into your breasts. You chuckle. He uses his right hand to rub small circles on the side of your rib cage, and you experimentally play with his hair. He exhales deeply at the action and fully relaxes on top of you. 

After five minutes, Joel is totally asleep, trapping you below him. You smile. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. Even if he’s drunk tonight, you still got some kind of answer from him. You’ll have to ask him about the other stuff another time. Right now, it's time to sleep. You sigh happily, wrap a leg around Joel for comfort, and drift off to sleep below him. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments! Keep them coming, they really give me insight and drive to write better for you all! enjoy this one <3

The strong smells of coffee, bacon and eggs rouses you. Your eyes flicker open to a fairly dark living room ceiling, and you're immediately confused. When you remember last night, you blush hard. You sit up slowly, idly wondering where Joel is, but you see him emerging from the kitchen with a plate and a mug. Your heart swells. 

“Good morning,” you practically sing, face breaking into a grin. He smiles back at you before handing you the plate and the mug. 

“Morning,” his gravelly voice responds. He returns to the kitchen and then reappears in the living room with a matching plate, taking a seat next to you on the couch. You both eat in comfortable silence, yours more being stunned because Joel makes a mean post-apocalypse omelet. It's not long until you’ve both inhaled your food, him most likely being extra hungry from his hangover. You’re the one to break the silence.

“How are you feeling?” You ask Joel softly. He rolls his neck and stretches his back before responding. 

“You’re quite comfortable to lay on,” he jokes, and you give him a wide smile. He smiles back. _This is nice._

“What’re you up to today?” You ask after a long sip of coffee. Joel rubs his knees.

“Patrol, which I should be leavin’ for right about now, actually.” He grunts like a dad when he stands. The spectacle is cute. “You?” He asks over his shoulder. You shrug.

“I’m off today,” you say cheerily. “Do you wanna… talk… later?” You test the waters. He stiffens, but only momentarily. 

“Sure,” he mumbles. “D’you wanna have dinner with me?” He asks, scratching his neck shyly. You blush and nod, a smile crossing your face again. Joel smiles in return. He heads for the door, an awkward tension between the two of you at his exit. You fiddle with your mug. 

“I’ll come get ya when I get off,” he offers, and you nod happily, excitement blooming in your belly. _He hasn’t even left yet…_

“Have a good day,” you squeak at him, and he grins hard before stepping out the door. When he leaves you exhale hard, half disappointed he didn’t kiss you goodbye. _It’s not like that! Yet…_

He agreed to talk! Finally! Maybe now you two will be able to get onto some common ground and talk about this situation you’re in. You think back to last night, how Joel told you he wanted to treat you right and bring you coffee in bed. Well, mission half accomplished. You _did_ sleep down here on the couch together, so you guess this is kind of “bed”. _Victory!_ _He's so sweet._ You stand and unashamedly do a small happy dance. You chug the last of your coffee and scamper up the stairs, deciding on a shower so you can prep your hair. You want to look nice for your little date later. 

You shower liberally, going all out: shaving your legs, underarms, and every inch of pubic hair off your body. You even go as far as to do a cautionary shave of your moustache. You want to be buttery smooth. You hit your freshly shaved skin with baby oil after your shower, and you let your hair air dry a bit before braiding it and hitting it a bit with your hair dryer to get the curling process to speed up. You brush your teeth thoroughly, then trim your nails and toenails.

You feel a bit obsessive, but it's nice to be able to worry about such _normal_ things like this again. It makes you feel young again, like you’re seventeen and getting ready for a school dance, knowing your crush would be there. It's a small, human comfort. You put on a nice, maroon turtleneck and dark blue skinny jeans overtop of matching black lace underwear and wait around anxiously. Why did you have to have the whole day off while Joel is out on patrol? Now you’re gonna be bored all day waiting for him! You decide to gather up your dirty laundry and do some basic cleaning to pass the time. You even dust your shelves, nobody ever does that shit. While you clean you try to brainstorm what you’re going to talk to him about. 

_You’re gonna have to tell him about your fear eventually,_ you chide yourself. You _know_ you’ll have to tell him eventually. _Ugh, this is confusing._ It doesn’t help that the only relationships you had were ones when you were a teenager. Not that they didn’t count, but you don’t know how more _adult_ relationships work. Sure, you were well versed in sex, that was a given, but being able to rely on another _adult_ and mutually providing for another _adult_ is something completely different. Joel was a fair deal older than you, around ten-ish years if you had to guess, so at least he might be more… experienced. Then there’s the large crutch of your trauma, needing to slowly peel back the layers so you could _really, actually_ trust him. You’re scared. So scared. 

Your palms sweat as you sit and think about it. The possibilities. Him leaving you, him _dying._ You worry and worry and worry until a small realization sparks in the back of your head. ‘ _You shouldn’t let your fear control you.’_ You take a deep breath and exhale it slowly. ‘ _If you let fear control you, you’ll never live your life.’_ You know that, that’s valid, but you have fears for a reason. 

_‘Do you, though?’_ You question yourself. You huff exasperatedly. 

_‘Your fears are because of things that happened twenty years ago,’_ you remind yourself. The things still happened, who cares when they happened! You can’t just-

 _Joel isn’t them._ You still. You have to admit, when your subconscious is right, she’s _right._ You flop down on your couch. It wouldn’t be fair to punish Joel for what happened to you in the past. He had nothing to do with that… But it’s still trauma. You can't just switch it off, it's not that easy. 

_‘If you talk to him about it, he might be understanding.’_ But what if he _isn’t_ . _Then_ what will you do?

 _‘Then at least you tried. It’ll help you move on.’_ That's a fair point… but if there’s that risk, why try?

 _‘There’s a risk that you’ll die every time you go on patrol, but you still go. There's a risk you can get food poisoning and die every time you eat food, but you still eat. You know that you hate the fact our fear controls you so much. When are you going to break this cycle for yourself?’_ You stop breathing for a moment. She’s right. _You’re_ right. You do hate that fear is one of your most familiar feelings. You lightly punch your knee. 

“I’m going to try,” you say aloud to yourself. ‘ _Until you try, you’ll never know.’_ You think quietly, repeating the mantra over and over again. You decide to talk to him as openly as you can. That’s the least you could do considering you want a relationship with him. All relationships require openness and honesty. If he can't handle that or take you as you are, then… you'll cross that bridge when you get there. For now, you need to figure out what exactly you’re going to say to him. 

Do you tell him about Rylee? How it was your fault? Probably not. That might be a little too heavy this early on. You vow to tell him one day, but definitely not today. You’ll tell him about your parents, about your brother, your time on your own. The fear of letting people get close. You’ll ask him for patience. To be considerate. If he can’t handle that…

 _‘Then it's his loss!’_ Your subconscious sings, and you giggle at yourself. Yeah, his loss. 

The afternoon drags by slowly, and you’ve run out of things to do to prevent yourself from obsessing any longer. Laundry is done, you made your bed, you cleaned your shower and your kitchen and even rearranged some stuff around your room, but now you just sit bored on your couch, watching a dvd of an old TV sitcom that used to air when you were little. Buddies, or something like that. The sun is setting when there's a knock on your door. You quickly undo your braids and flip your head upside down, fluffing the curls before checking in the small mirror on the wall next to the door. When you look as good as you're gonna look, you open the door.

Joel stands before you, leaning on one foot, in his black, snug fitting jeans and green flannel, brown jacket to boot. He looks showered, beard trimmed and hair decently styled. You smile. _He tried, how cute._ He smiles back at you and you blush. _Jeez._

“You look nice,” you tease, grabbing your jacket off the hook next to the door. He rolls his eyes. 

“Compared t’you I look like pigpen,” he jokes, and you snicker at him before stepping through the door. You walk carefully down your steps, not wanting to bust ass and embarrass yourself in front of him more than you already have. The houses on the street all have lights on their porches, the old bulbs having somehow survived twenty long years. You remember your dad always yelling about buying new lights every year since they always blew out. You laugh at the memory, and Joel glances down at you.

“Just remembering something about my dad,’’ you chuckle and wave your hand dismissively. Joel continues looking at you, eyebrows raised, silently asking you to continue. You gulp. “He would always yell about needing new lights every year, yet these one’s have lasted twenty years with no issues. He’s probably turning in his grave,” you joke, and Joel chuckles heartily in response. You continue to walk to Seth’s in silence, your arm brushing against Joel’s a few times from his close proximity. You’re about to cheer, having made it to the bar in the snow with zero incident, but of course this jinxes it. Your right foot jolts out from under you, having hit a patch of ice, and you squeal in panic, grabbing Joel’s arm to stabilize you. His left hand grabs your waist as you stiffen your legs like a baby deer, and you glance up at him. He rolls his eyes before laughing at you and telling you you need to be careful, you're so clumsy, and you slap his arm before pushing him away from you. He laughs hard before his own foot catches a patch of ice, and he falls unceremoniously onto his ass with a loud _oof._

“Oh yeah? Who’s clumsy now, mister? Eh?” You point and laugh at him before his eyes glare into yours. He reaches for a pile of snow and hastily forms it into a ball before chucking it at you. You dodge it, but just barely, and then fall on your ass on the ice. You grunt in defeat, and Joel bursts out laughing at you, the deep sound making your heart swell and a blush cross your cheeks. He has a nice laugh. You quickly make a retaliation snowball and chuck it at him, the cold sphere hitting him square in the face, and now it's your turn to laugh at his shocked expression. 

“That how it's gonna be?” Joel asks menacingly, getting to his knees slowly. Your eyes widen in fear as he lunges at you, grabbing your sides and tickling you. You scream, trying to get away from him while just burying yourself in the cold snow. Joel is merciless, and you warn him that you’re gonna pee your pants if he doesn’t let you go. He briefly makes you fear for the sake of your pants before he relaxes, and you both still in the snow, breathing heavily. Joel looks down at you, and you back up at him, your eyes flicking between his eyes and his lips shamefully. He presses his nose to yours before sighing and moving to stand up. He offers you a hand. 

“C’mon, lets get some food,” he says as he lifts you carefully from the ground. You both shake the snow off your clothes before entering the bar. Everyone’s gazes flicker to you two immediately when you enter the bar. You blush and look down at the ground. You hope nobody heard you screaming about peeing your pants. Joel clears his throat and moves unphased through the tables and over to the bar. You slide up against him and he orders dinner for you both. You happily accept the tray from Seth, ignoring the strange glance he gives you and Joel before following Joel over to a table toward the back of the building, back near the jukebox. He sits slowly and you plop down in the chair across from him, tucking into the soup and bread on the tray. All the thinking you did earlier made you hungry. 

You both eat in silence and you people watch, observing your fellow people of Jackson in the dim light of the bar. It's a pretty crowded night tonight, everyone huddling in from the cold outside. You'd reason that at least half of Jackson is in Seth’s tonight, as as you scan the crowd your eyes lock on Ellie’s. She’s sitting with her newest crush, Cat, over toward a post at the other side of the bar. You offer her a small wave, which she doesn’t return immediately, instead opting for a nudge of her head toward Joel. Your shoulders sag. Is she angry? You cock your head to the side, asking _what about him?_ Ellie holds up her thumb and then turns it down again, repeatedly flipping the gesture up and down, _how is he?_ You soften. Even as angry as she is with him, she still knows he’s hurt, and she’s worried about him. You give her a small smile, giving a so-so shake with your hand. She fidgets in her seat before turning back to Cat with a smile. They must be on a date. 

You glance over at Joel, who is thankfully still focusing on his food. You're relieved to see he must've missed the exchange between you and Ellie. He seems to be having a good night, his forehead relaxed instead of furrowed with worry, and you don’t want his anguish to return. You never want him to be that hurt again. You take this moment to stare at him, admiring his handsome face as a burning appears in your chest. You’re in deep, you know it. You can't name if it's because this is the closest you've ever been to another person, or if Joel is someone extremely special, but you do know you like him a _lot_ . He catches you watching him, and you turn away slightly and blush. He chuckles at you, and you smile hard at being caught. You glance down at your shoes, hanging above the floor from your seat in the stool, and when you look back up you notice Ellie making her way to the jukebox. You quickly get up to intercept her, and Joel watches you quizzically as you stand and tell him _you’ll be right back._

You put your arm around Ellies shoulders when you reach her. 

“How’s it going?” You teasingly shake her. She rolls her green eyes in annoyance. 

“We’re on a date and I could really use your music expertise…” she grumbles, fingers swiping through the music selection. 

“Whatcha lookin’ for tonight, ma’am?” You tip your imaginary cap at her and take over. She tells you she wants soft and romantic rock, and you nod happily at her. You have her pick out a few songs of her own as a test of her knowledge, and you smile happily at her. She’s been paying attention to what you’ve been teaching her. Not all of the songs she chose are exactly _rock,_ but they’re slow and romantic either way, and exactly what she needs. You finish off the four-set with your own go-to slow dancing love song before patting her back with a “ _good luck!_ ” She snorts at you and responds with “ _you too!”_ You poke your tongue out at her and scamper back to your seat, Joel having observed the entire spectacle with a raised brow. You smile at him. 

“She’s on a date!” You animatedly whisper at him. He chuckles. Ellie appears next to Cat’s side and offers her a hand as the opening to _Goodbye Horses_ plays on the juke. Cat smiles at her and they join the small throng of people on the dance floor. They dance with each other to the futuristic beat of the song, smiling at each other, and you watch them with a smile on your face. When her eyes catch on yours, you wink, and she rolls her eyes in response. You look over to Joel, and he's watching her with a lost expression. You furrow your brows at him and reach out to place your hand on his, squeezing it reassuringly. You stroke the calluses on his knuckles.

“She won’t stay mad forever. She just needs time,” you offer with a soft voice, and he turns his hand so your fingers are in his palm. He encases your small, chilled fingers in his large warm palm and holds them there, his thumb taking a turn and skimming your knuckles. You flush at the show of affection. _Human Nature_ replaces _Goodbye Horses_ , and you open your mouth to speak again, but Joel cuts you off. 

“I hope so,” he mumbles brokenly down at the table, and you squeeze his hand again. He looks up to you, a deep frown on his lips, marring his beautiful face. It's not your place to tell him she asked about him, but you can offer other words instead. 

“Parents fight with their kids often, it happens. You just take time and then when you’re ready you talk about it, you do, and then you heal. All she needs is some time,” you explain. Joel’s eyes just bore into yours. “I’ll make sure she’s okay until she’s ready to talk,” you promise, and Joel nods slowly, his grip on your hand not wavering. You glance down at your small hand in his and smile, chest fluttering. It feels so warm, comforting, _natural._ His thumb skimming over your knuckles gently, the tanned callused skin grounding you in the dimly lit bar. You feel fear grow in your chest, and you gulp it down, determined to not let your fears hold you back any longer. From now on, you want to live your life by doing whatever feels right. No more holding yourself back. 

When you lock eyes with Joel during the sound of Steven Tyler singing about _not wanting to miss a thing_ , a blush creeps over your face. In Joel’s eyes you see yourself, your usual trepidation and caution and _fear,_ and you wonder if this is why you’re so comfortable with Joel. Why he’s so _familiar._ This must be why you have this insane draw to him. He strikingly reminds you of yourself, the hardness on the outside with the storm of fear churning within. Maybe you could be the calm to each other’s storm, taking comfort in only one another from this world. Maybe you're romanticizing this too much. 

_‘Stop insulting yourself and let yourself have this feeling, please,’_ your subconscious begs, and you give in. Who cares if your thoughts are silly. It's perfectly reasonable to want monogamy. You only hope that’s what Joel would want, too. The two of you stare at each other, lost in each other’s gaze for a few long moments when the familiar opening chords of _Wonderful Tonight_ begin playing, and in a moment of boldness, you stand. Joel blinks in confusion at you.

“Dance with me?” You ask sweetly, squeezing his hand softly. He looks around in fear for a moment. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay-” you begin, but Joel cuts you off by standing. He smiles a sweet smile down at you before leading you over to the dance floor. People share shocked glances with one another, and from a few feet away, Ellie smiles from her spot in Cat’s arms. You place your right hand in Joels, left hand on his shoulder as his other hand rests in the small of your back. He slowly spins with you in time with the music and everyone else. You rest your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat, which you adorably find to be beating faster than normal. He must be nervous, You smile against him and move your hand to the side of his neck, rubbing small circles gently into the hot skin where his neck meets his shoulder, and you feel him hum appreciatively. You close your eyes and allow yourself to get lost in the moment, not caring about the many patrons watching with wide eyes and amused smiles. Right now, it’s just you and Joel slow dancing at the beginning of what you’re hoping is a happy, long relationship together. 

The song dies out, and you’re unhappily pulled from your sweet moment by everyone shuffling out of the bar. It must be late. Joel quickly retrieves your jackets and helps you shrug into yours before walking you out of the bar, hand in the small of your back. Your chest feels tight. You’re so anxious. You don’t even know where to begin with this talk. Joel carefully helps you walk up your front steps and opens the door for you, letting you step inside before closing it tightly behind him. He takes your coat from you and hangs it before hanging his own right next to it. He's being so chivalrous, and you blush darkly when you remember he told you he wanted to treat you like a lady. You could get used to this. You plop down on the couch, bouncing lightly with nerves. Instead of sitting at the other end, Joel makes a fire in your fireplace for you. You smile at his actions. When he’s done, he sits next to you, his leg brushing yours. He rests his arm across the back of the couch and slouches a bit before lazily glancing over at you.

“What were you lookin’ to talk about?” He asks quietly, his voice betraying his nerves. You glance down and fiddle with your fingers, pushing your cuticles back with your nails. 

“I…” You begin and stop from anxiety before scoffing at yourself. “I don’t really know where to begin,” you squeak. He angles his body to face you, eyes scanning your face. You blush, knowing he's so close and looking at you is so intimate. He doesn’t say anything, a strong silent type seemingly. You nibble your lip as you form the words. 

“It's about… us,” you gesture between the two of you. “Things I want you to know about me before we… I don't know… Get too serious?” You explain. He nods and smiles at you.

“More serious than you cummin’ on my fingers?” He asks jokingly, and you think your head might explode with the ferocious blood rushing to create a blush. You punch him lightly and he laughs at you.

“Yes! You ass,” you squeal. His joking is making you feel better, you’ll admit. You put your hand under your chin and fiddle with your lip, pulling it between your fingers a few times before regrouping your thoughts. 

“When the outbreak happened, I was only seventeen. I don’t know much about being a functioning adult in a relationship,” you explain, staring down at your hands. He nods a bit.

“When I met my ex-wife, I was a teen. We married and divorced pretty quick,” he explains. “Guess we’re in the same boat.” He shrugs. Your heart rate spikes, _'ex wife?'_ And you glance up at him. His eyes are on your face, unwavering, watching you as he speaks. You decide to try to be brave and not look away. 

“I haven’t let anyone get close to me since before the outbreak,” you continue quietly. You have to look away from him. “I’m afraid of letting people in. Not to be cliche, but my upbringing wasn’t the best, and right after the outbreak happened, a lot of stuff happened to me that really,” you stop, a small sob forming in your chest, causing your torso to cramp. _Oh, this is hard._ Joel’s hand moves from the side of the couch and tenderly moves your hair behind your ear. You look at him. 

“This is new for me, too.” He admits quietly, eyes cast away from your face. You make a strangled choking noise, your air being caught in your throat from the confession. 

“I’m really afraid of letting people in, so I guess I’m saying sorry in advance if I'm really difficult to deal with,” you admit softly. He pets the side of your face softly.

“Me too.” He responds simply. You move your hand to stroke the inside of his wrist. You swallow dryly and decide to tell him about your family, being careful to leave out Rylee, not wanting him to judge you. 

“Right after the outbreak happened, my brother and I found my parents dead in our house,” you whisper, barely even audibly. “Then he disappeared. I don’t even know if he's still alive. I stayed in Boston for twenty years, but I never saw him again, and I couldn’t stand to be there anymore. I left and that's when you found me.” Joel nods quietly, taking in what you confessed. His eyes soften, but he doesn't say anything, instead just petting your hair while you softly begin to weep. You quickly try to contain yourself, pawing at your face with your sleeve. You sniffle.

“I just had to tell you all of that so you knew before you and I got into something… serious,” you explain, using that word again since your brain couldn't come up with anything else. Joel nods but doesn't give much of anything away. He’s opted for letting you talk. You wish he would reveal more about himself, but maybe his issues are worse than yours, and he's just not ready for that yet. You take a precautionary measure.

“If you’re not ready for this, or opening up, or whatever, I understand. We can go at whatever pace feels natural for you, or for us. Just know I'm eager to listen whenever you're ready,” you state, leaning into his hand and closing your eyes. You hear his breathing shake a bit, but decide to give him this moment to himself, so you keep your eyes closed. 

“Let’s go slow, ease ourselves into it,” he whispers after what feels like an eternity of silence. You nod, then smile devilishly. 

“Slow is me cumming on your fingers?” You open your eyes, smiling up at him. His pupils darken. 

“Are you mockin’ me?” He asks darkly, and the tone of his voice goes straight to your groin. You shake your head no frantically. “I think yer mockin’ me.” He moves close to your face.

“What are you gonna do about it, cowboy?” You respond, gazing at him through half-lidded eyes.

“If I tell ya, it’ll ruin the fun,” he says, his breath hitting your face, nose brushing against yours. 

“Please tell me, Joel.” You whisper back, the blood in your veins heating fractionally at the game he's playing. _So much for slow, not that you mind…_

Joel kisses you quick and hard, but the kiss is painfully brief as his hands find your waist, fingers digging into your ticklish abdomen.

“NO!” You scream, sliding around in the couch below him as he mercilessly tickles you. Joel roars in laughter above you as you struggle, and you laugh too, his laughter contagious. 

“Oh yeah? How about… This!” You squeal as you jam your hands in Joel’s armpits, tickling him back. He shouts in surprise at the intrusion before wrestling with you to pin your hands on either side of your head. You huff in exhausted defeat, looking up through Joel through your lashes. He gazes down at you, eyes trailing your face, and you instinctively bring your lip between your teeth, nibbling gently. Joel releases one of your hands and cups your chin.

“Ah ah,” he says, tugging your lip loose from your teeth. “‘Member what I said ‘bout that.” He growls darkly before leaning down closer to your face. “My job.” He grumbles out, gently taking your bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling on it. A moan escapes your throat, and you loop your legs around Joel back to bring his groin to yours. You feel a slight bulge in his pants, his half hard cock pressing against you, and he groans from the sensation, abandoning your lip and moving to fully kiss you. His lips crush yours, the energy from the night he fingered you getting called back immediately. His tongue invades your mouth and wrestles with yours as you moan, bringing your hips up to grind against his quickly hardening member. He instinctively bucks against you, and you bite his lip in response. A deep groan emanates from him at your action, his hips angling to grind against your clothed clit. You mewl, and he breaks the kiss and chuckles darkly at you. 

“Look at you,” he clicks his tongue at you, a sharp _tsk_ noise leaving his lips. You open your mouth and moan at his teasing, trying to angle your hips toward his again, but he stops you. “We should stop.” He says, and you pout. He rolls his eyes at your pouting face. “Darlin’ if we keep goin’, we won't be goin’ slow, I promise you that.” Your groin throbs at his words. ‘ _But if we’re both into it, who cares!’_ You mentally scream, but you know better than to pressure him, so you instead respect his wishes from earlier. _Slow… Slow._

“Right.” You respond, lips swollen and breathless from his fervent kissing. He smiles at you before pressing one last kiss to your lips. 

“I have ta go. I’ll see you in the mornin’, darlin’,” he says sweetly, and you furrow your brows at him in confusion. 

“You will?” You ask curiously, looking over the back of your couch at him as he pulls on his jacket. He stills, then decides to give you another chaste kiss. 

“Breakfast in bed, remember?” He smiles, and you blush, heart melting. You roll your eyes at him. “Bright and early, I’ve got patrol,” he tells you, and you frown. _So fucking early…_

“I’ll see you then, cowboy,” you respond, voice low from disappointment toward him leaving and from being horny. He chuckles. 

“Night, darlin’,” he says gruffly before stepping out your front door. You listen for the sound of him stomping down your steps before you kick your legs around frantically in glee. _He’s mine! Well, sort of. Still, he’s sort of MINE!_ You get up and do a happy dance, the confusion of the past few weeks having seemingly paid off. Even if he hasn't opened up to you fully yet, everything starts somewhere, and that somewhere is here, and now. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. It's such a relief. And he's bringing you breakfast in bed tomorrow! You flop back on the couch and stare dreamily into the embers of the fire he made, your couch smelling like him. Warmth, coffee, and woodsy. _Mmm, Joel._

You decide to shower before bed, not wanting to get caught smelling bad tomorrow when he brings you breakfast. You wash your hair and reminisce about his hand stroking the side of your face. You like him a lot. You feel extremely lucky. You don't want to get too far ahead of yourself, but this welcome warmth, this feeling of safety and pure unbridled joy is so nice, and you just want to revel in it, to live in it forever. He took you as you are, and he didn't run away. You cry happy tears as you rinse out your hair, the suds running down your body and tickling your sensitive skin. You cry out the nerves you had, and afterward all you feel is _relief._ You dry off and quickly climb into bed, eager to sleep and see Joel in the morning. You fall asleep happy for the first time in twenty three years, a smile on your face as you doze. 


	14. Chapter 14

You’re roused the next morning by a warm hand gently petting your bare shoulder. You open your eyes slowly and roll over, groggy eyes taking Joel in in all his general glory. He’s less kempt than he was last night, but you kind of prefer him this way. Relaxed Joel. It’s more natural. You smile at him and sit up slowly in bed, happily taking the hot coffee he offers you. He kisses your forehead before rising from the bed, and you carefully hold your coffee, hoping to not spill it from the disturbance his movement caused. He returns with two wrapped sandwiches from Seth’s, and you both happily eat breakfast together, idly chatting about his patrol on this cold day. He says he doesn’t want to go, he'd rather lay in your warm bed with you all day, and you blush at this. Joel Miller, the romantic type. It's a welcome surprise, definitely. After he finishes his food and coffee, he lays flat on your bed, biding his time as much as he can. 

“You really don’t wanna go, huh?” You ask him as you reach out and play with his hair. He groans happily at the feeling before responding. 

“No ma'am, I do not,” he drawls. You put your coffee down and move to straddle him, opting then to fully lay on top of him. He scrunches his neck and looks down at you in amusement, rubbing your back. “What’re ya doin’ there?”

You shrug. “Making it so you can’t leave,” you say matter of factly. He chuckles, jiggling you a bit. 

“I wish I could stay, darlin’,” he says, pulling you up his body toward his face, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear while he speaks. You love it when he does that.

“You could just hide here with me in my bed all day,” you whisper in a song like tone, slowly scratching his chin through his beard. He releases a contented sigh. 

“Miss (l/n), you drive a hard bargain,’ he mumbles before reaching his head up and kissing you gently. You eagerly kiss him back, moving your legs to the sides of his hips and sitting on him. He hums appreciatively before slowly moving to sit up, the two of you never breaking the kiss. His warm hands slowly crawl under your shirt and then up your back, the feel of his hands moving so gently on you giving you goosebumps and making you shiver. He exhales a laugh through his nose at your reaction, and experimentally he lightly drags his nails down your back. You twitch and offer a slight moan to him, which he fervently swallows in his kiss. You snake your arms into his hair, gripping and pulling at it gently. Joel’s hips respond, bucking up into yours gently, a groan being shared by the two of you. Joel places a hand on your tailbone and quickly lifts you, moving to lay you down in your bed. He kicks off his boots, not looking to get your sheets dirty, before climbing above you again.

His pupils are dilated in his aroused state, burning into you like lazers, and you imagine your expression matches his perfectly. Joel kisses your cheeks multiple times, alternating sides of your face each time and making you giggle, before he uses his hand to upturn your jaw, exposing your neck to him. The experimentally presses a kiss to the area where your jaw and your neck meet, the smooth skin warming his lips. You writhe beneath him at the contact. He moves lower, softly kissing your pulse, and you moan, the action sending a jolt to your groin. He takes note of your reaction and softly sucks the skin into his mouth, tongue lapping at your tender flesh. Your nails dig into the back of his neck, and he unsheathes his teeth in response to your scratches. You groan and tug his groin to yours with your legs, needing some friction. He tuts at you lightly.

“Now now darlin’, ‘member what I said about  _ slow, _ ” he chides in your ear. You mewl.

“Joel, you can't keep teasing me like this, I can’t take it,” you whisper, and he chuckles lightly. He pulls away from you a bit to study your flushed expression. 

“Well,” he mumbles, “I suppose since we already made it ta’ third base, we can just stick there for now.” He states. Your eyes light up a bit, not really knowing what third base means, but hoping it’s at least more than kissing.  _ We already… oh.  _ Your face heats.

Joel sits back on his knees, eyeing you hungrily beneath him. He tugs gently on your sweatpants string. 

“You should get these off,” he growls. You shiver before doing as he says, blushing immediately when you remember you went commando to sleep. He hums in admiration when your pants are off. “No panties?” He says in mock surprise. You cover your face with your arm and shake your head. He chuckles above you. You move your arm just in time to watch him experimentally reach out and swipe his finger up once through your folds, collecting an embarrassing amount of slick on his middle finger. He nods to himself. 

“All this, from just me kissin’ you,” he teases. “You flatter me.” You groan. He looks up into your face, eyes boring into yours as he slowly sinks his second and third digit into your heat. It's just enough to make you squirm. He methodically retracts his fingers, before slowly scissoring them against your flesh, his fingers hitting your spot deep inside you with each thrust. He swipes his thumb across the base of his fingers to wetten it, before softly pressing it against your clit. When he's done with that, he doesn’t move. You huff and raise a brow at him. He lowers his face to your ear again, gently nibbling on the lobe before he speaks.

“Use my fingers to get yourself off,” he commands, and you swear you nearly black out from how lewd this is. You groan in protest, but Joel swiftly bites your neck to stop your whining. “Fuck my fingers, darlin’,” he commands, and you hastily grind against them, his tone slipping you into darkness. You lift your hips and let them fall in a circular motion against Joel’s still fingers. He’s careful to keep his hand still so you get plenty of the friction you so desperately needed. 

He hungrily sits back and watches his fingers slide in and out of your aching cunt, your juices overflowing and dripping off of his fingers. You know you look absolutely wrecked beneath him, but knowing he’s watching you, making you into a feast for his eyes, it brings you closer. You clench around him, a particular strong wave of pre-orgasm shivers shaking your body. He smiles evilly down at you. His left hand slides up your body and takes purchase on your neck, his thumb, index and middle fingers pressing lightly into his pulse.

“As much as I love watchin’ you like this, you’re gonna make me late for patrol,” he mutters down at you, his face closing in on yours. He nips your lip before his hand squeezes your pulse points, and he begins moving his fingers out of you, his thumb massaging back and forth over your clit. You moan loudly and Joel smiles in your face, your noises only encouraging him to go faster. Your back arches off the bed slightly as he brings you to your precipice, your shaking hands reaching up to wrap around the wrist whose hand is around your neck. Your mouth slips open and your breath hitches, and you feel yourself squeeze around Joel's fingers again. 

“Cum, (y/n),” he commands. “Cum for me, right now.” And his words are your undoing. You cum around his fingers again, legs moving to close around him, a silent moan stuck in your throat. His hand abandons your neck in favor of pushing your left knee against the bed, widening you for his viewing pleasure. He greedily watches your pussy quake against his hand until you’re done cumming, and he hastily cleans his fingers off with his mouth. The sight makes you blush and quiver beneath him. He smiles at you when he's done, a megawatt smile, his lips shiny from your slick. 

“Breakfast in bed,” he jokes to you, and he kisses you sweetly. You hungrily lick your essence from his lips. “Better stop that,” he chastises you, and you pout at him. He presses another kiss to your lips. 

“I gotta go baby,” he announces as he stands and adjusts his hard on in his pants. He bends to put on his boots.

“Dinner later?” The question leaves your lips before you can stop it. He smiles at you and kisses you again.

“Sure, I’ll bring it by when I get off?” He offers, and you nod eagerly. His smile widens as he shrugs on his jacket.

“Be safe,” you remind him as he turns to leave, and he winks at you before heading out for the day. You hear the door downstairs shut, and you dart to the window to watch him cross town to the stables, his walk giving absolutely nothing away.  _ Cheeky fucker.  _

You smile widely. Joel seems to be in much better spirits toward you after last night and your talk. This has to be a good sign. You hope things stay this way. You quickly dress for the day and get on with your chores, the usual tasks with some winter street management. You kind of wished they'd let you go outside the gates more. There's only so many times someone can do laundry before they go stir crazy. Yet still, you do what's expected of you, not even bothering to rush. You didn’t have anything to do until Joel came home from patrol. You carry a large load of horse blankets to the stables, and on your way out Tommy stops you.

“Hey, change of plans,” he says cheerily. “You’re on patrol the rest of the week.” You raise your brows in surprise. 

“Everything okay with the usual groups?” You ask, making conversation. Tommy nods.

“Yeah, just changing the rotation up for the winter. We try to have them split up season to season, with a few swaps when needed,” He explains, and you nod. “You're on for the next week, with a day off in between,” he tells you, and you thank him as he turns to make his leave. You shrug in surprise to yourself. Well, there's your wish for more time outside the gates fulfilled. You should grab winter gear. You finish your duties for the day and swing by the storage building, hastily picking out thicker pants, sweaters, hats and gloves. You carry it all to your house, put the hats and gloves by the door so you never lose them (even though you probably still will) and put away the rest of the clothes. 

Luckily, you managed to make your chores take the entire day, and outside the beginning of evening is peaking through the sky. Joel should be home soon. You decide to pop your sitcom dvd set in the dvd player to watch while you kill the time, curling up beneath your sherpa blanket, being too lazy to make a fire. You snuggle down and press play on the remote. 

Joel gently nudges you awake. You wake with a start and flusteredly wipe the drool from the side of your face before your head flips over to him, his face amused. You mumble a small hi to him.

“Hi, good morning,” he jests, and you roll your eyes. You scooch over on the couch and he plops down next to you with a foil wrapped blob in each hand. You happily take a blob from him and open it up. You smile.  _ Burger Day. _ You tuck into your burger, hungry from working and napping so hard, and out of the corner of your eye you see Joel watching you with a bemused expression, a smile lighting up his wonderful face, and you try to ignore the warmth spreading in your chest.  _ Joel… MY Joel.. _

You finish your food with a loud huff, your throat feeling full with the size of the bites you were taking. You felt like you ran a marathon. Joel just laughs, eating much slower and with more grace than you, and you roll your eyes at him before standing to get some water. You pour yourself a glass, and decide to get one for Joel too, since you're already up. He hums appreciatively when you put it down next to him on the table next to the couch. You drink half the glass before glancing at Joel, who raises his brows at you as if to ask ‘ _ What’s up? _ ’

“I have patrol for the next week,’’ you grumble, and Joel makes a ‘huh’ noise as response, opting to not talk with his mouth full. You shrug. “Yeah. I don’t know why, Tommy told me today. Something about ‘rotating out the groups’ or something.” Joel nods before scoffing momentarily.

“Looks like someone’s gonna have ta’ be a mornin’ person,” he teases, and you roll your eyes.

“I’ll never be a morning person. Although…” Your voice trails. Joel looks at you expectantly. 

“I didn’t mind  _ this _ particular morning,” you mention suggestively. Joel rolls his eyes at you, and you snicker. He finishes his food and balls up his now empty tin foil, tossing it over in the small wastebasket next to the edge of your fireplace, and he reclines back on your couch, arm outstretched along the back of the seat. In a moment of bravery, you crawl over to him and snuggle into his side, leeching off of his radiating body heat. He stiffens for a moment, taken aback by your forwardness, but he soon relaxes and rests his arm along the side of your body, hand coming to rest gently on the outside of your thigh.

This is all so foreign to you, and you hope that you’re acting normal. It's been years, years and years, and sure you cuddled with your teenage boyfriends… but cuddling a  _ man.  _ With a  _ beard. _ Definitely nothing you’ve ever done before. You haven't been with someone since becoming an adult. If this goes well, Joel could end up like your husband.  _ Whoa.  _ Your head spins momentarily.  _ Husband. _ A big, scary, grown up word. You were at the marrying age, weren't you?  _ Shit, I'm old.  _ What are the protocols for marriage in the apocalypse anyway? How is it done? You shake your head internally, not wanting Joel to be alerted of your inward battle. That's not something you want to worry about right now. Right now you want to think about how you're right here, snuggled up into Joel’s side, beginning a relationship with him. The rest will come naturally. 

You gingerly ask Joel for the remote to the tv and the dvd player, and you switch both on, deciding to watch more episodes of the sitcom you’ve been watching to pass the time. Joel laughs as the opening credits roll, saying how ‘ _ he was a kid when this show was on’ _ , and you laugh and call him old. He threatens to tickle you, and you swiftly beg him for mercy, which he grants, ‘ _ just this once’. _ After an episode, you feel your eyelids begin to droop, and you slowly fall asleep against Joel’s side, body drooping slowly. 

When you wake the next morning, you’re surprised to find you're in your bed, and it's still dark outside. You frown.  _ Ugh. Patrol.  _ Your heart warms at the thought of Joel carrying a sleeping you up your stairs and putting you to bed. You shower quickly, idly wondering where Joel was, half disappointed he didn't come to wake you with breakfast in bed. After you dry off, a glance at the clock shows it's around six thirty in the morning. You frown. You dress in your new heavy clothes and sit downstairs, sipping a cup of coffee to jump start your body for your day. Maybe breakfast in bed won’t be an everyday thing. Maybe it’s for the best, you don’t want to seem clingy or become too dependent on seeing Joel every morning, that wouldn’t be healthy. You like him a lot, but you need autonomy and to be independent outside of him. You’ve always been your own person and sacrificing that isn’t worth it. Relationships should consist of two people with their own identities who can remain their own people while sharing their life with someone else. You don’t want to lose sight of who  _ you _ are. 

At six forty-five, your boredom has peaked, and you decide to head to the stables early to pass the time there until seven. The trek through the recently plowed streets is quiet, boring, but you don’t fall. Score: Gravity-0. (Y/n)-1. Your small victory over gravity keeps you jovial all the way up until you get to the stables. You find Rojo and take him out of his stable and prep him for patrol. The poor horse is hardly awake, not being used to being ridden this early, and you share his sentiment. You pay his butt until he’s awake and kicking, and you gently lean against him, taking comfort in his soft yes muscular side. You start to doze before you hear the crunching of footsteps. You jolt awake and stand until the gaze of Joel, who’s perturbed expression quickly changes into a warm smile. 

“There you are,” he says lightly, and his tone makes you warm. You return his smile. 

“Here I am,” is your response. 

“I went looking for you at your house, but you beat me here,” he says as he slowly, shyly shuffles in front of you. This tension… why?

“What’s the occasion?” You question, and Joel laughs. 

“I wanted to make sure you were awake for our first day of patrol for this week,” he says cheekily, and your face practically breaks from the smile that forms. Joel returns your grin. You walk up to him and flop against his chest, groaning. 

“I’m so tired,” you jest, producing a fake snoring noise. Joel kisses the top of your head and wraps an arm around you half assedly. You feel anxiety radiate off of him. Should you ask?  _ No, let’s not ruin the moment.  _ You remain standing in front of Joel, head on his chest and hands gripping the front of his jacket, until the two of you hear another set of footsteps approaching the stables. Joel takes a large step away from you and tries to make his demeanor look natural, normal hardened Joel as Tommy turns the corner. His eyes glance between the two of you, a brow raised as if you say  _ what did I miss? _ You shuffle your feet in discomfort. Was Joel ashamed of you? Or did he not like PDA? But you two danced together and it wasn’t a problem… 

You shake your head to dispel your thoughts. You don’t want to carry this around with you all day. Tommy gives you two your brief and let’s you get on your way, but not without one more cursory glance at his older brother. Joel just stands stoic, demeanor insisting  _ back down, Tommy.  _ Tommy shakes his head and leaves, and you glance at Joel with a confused and concerned expression. He was so darling the past two days, what happened? Men are so complicated. 

He says nothing as you both mount your horses and head out through East gate. It’s not until you two reach the clearing that he seems to relax a bit, shoulders losing their built up tension. You want to ask what’s wrong, but you don’t want to pry. He’ll tell you when he wants you to know. You just hope that time is soon. Instead of dwelling on Joel and his weird mood swings, you instead opt to take in the winter scenery around you, having not been out on patrol since before the snow came. 

The trees surrounding Jackson have been completely overtaken by mountainous inches of plush snow, their branches creaking under the weight. Icicles hang on the ends of branches, and you see tiny bird tracks in the pillowy fluff below, It’s serene, the woods seeming so quiet, sleeping for the winter. It brings you back to winters at home, bundled up in layers of snow pants and hoodies, sitting out in the darkness, just listening to the cold air. The sparkle of new, icy flakes pittering against the icy crust of the earth. You miss that pure relaxation. It sounded like magic. And now you’re here, fighting death at every turn, riding behind a man you had feelings for. Things are so different now. 

You can't believe it. Months ago, you swore you'd never open up to someone, never let them in again. It was too painful. Too dangerous. But here you are at the end of the world, finding yourself becoming a hypocrite. You were always so much better off alone, and you liked it that way. But for once, you’re happy to not be alone. You’re happy to have people like Ellie and Joel. They make you feel alive, make you feel human again after years of disconnect. It all happened so quick, your immediate draw to them both, your willingness to trust them against all of your instincts. It was as if the walls weren’t even there in the first place. You’re blindsided by this revelation. You had no intention on any of this ever happening, and yet it all did as if it was nothing. It's laughable, and it does actually make you laugh, a scoff leaving your throat. Joel turns to you speculatively. You shake your head to signify that  _ it's nothing.  _ Joel’s gaze doesn’t relent, eyes begging you to elaborate. 

“I’m just laughing about… everything,” you say, raising your brows. “I never thought I would be here, in a situation like this. I swore to myself I would be alone forever. I would never let anyone close again. But here I am, living as if I never even said that. It's… nice.” Joel watches you curiously, before giving you a small smile which doesn’t reach his eyes. Your heart sinks.  _ Something HAS to be wrong. _ He was in such a good mood for the past few days, and now suddenly he’s retracted, quieter You wish he’d open up to you. You bow your head and focus on the task at hand, aiming to disassociate. You complete patrol with Joel, no more words being exchanged between the two of you until you're turned around and heading back to Jackson. 

“Are you okay?” You pipe up through tense silence. “You seem off today.” Joel just grunts in response and shakes his head, and you frown, exhaling loudly through your nose. “Joel,” you begin, and he looks over at you, face turning down at the tone of your voice. “We’re… together. I’d like it if you’d communicate with me a little bit here. I’m open with you,” you say, and Joel begins to sulk. How exasperating. You shake your head and ride on ahead of him, eager to just go ahead and get home, the day making you uncomfortable. He doesn’t stop you, and when you’re back in Jackson and Rojo is away, you head home and opt for eating what’s left in your cupboards instead of risking going outside and facing Joel. He doesn’t come by, doesn’t speak to you, and you sit and brew over what’s going on. 

This continues on for four days. Four long days of Joel being off. And you keep asking him if he’s okay, and he keeps brushing you off, and you keep getting madder and madder. You want to be understanding, but he isn’t giving you anything to understand. He’s giving you nothing. On the fifth day, you decide to try to start conversation. 

“We’ve been on patrol together a lot recently,” you point out, and he raises his brows and nods his head slightly. 

He says nothing for a while, the piercing silence creeping up your neck. 

“I asked Tommy to put us on together,” he admits quietly, and you can't quite name the feeling this gives you. Are you flattered? You’re definitely confused.

“Why?” You ask, and Joel tenses for a long moment. 

“I wanted ta’ make sure you’d be safe, and I wanted ta’ see you more,” he whispers, eyes never leaving the trail before him, and two feelings battle for dominance in your chest: love and anger. Okay, he wanted to see you more, that’s nice. But, he isn’t exactly acting like it. And he wanted to make sure you're safe…

“You know I’m perfectly capable of defending myself, right?” You ask, offense lacing your voice. You don’t like being treated like a child…

“I know, but after you forgot your weapons that one day-“ 

“Because I forgot my weapons once you decide I’m some sort of damsel in distress?” You cut him off, pent up frustration filling your voice. He shakes his head.

“No, I-“

“Honestly Joel… Fuck you. You’ve been weird to me all fucking week, and now you want to tell me you asked Tommy to have us patrol together just so you can be some kind of knight in shining armor? Just…” You say in exasperation. “Just leave me alone.” You say, kicking Rojo into a gallop, leaving Joel behind you on the trail, stunned into silence. You ride home, through the gates of Jackson, and people stop to ask if you’re okay after they see the look on your face. You ignore them, putting Rojo away as fast as you can so you can go home and sulk. On your way there you pass Joel, who rides through town with the most lost look on his face, and it almost breaks your resolve. Someone that handsome shouldn’t have that look on their face, but you refrain. You’re mad at him, for good reason, and you won't cave now. You stomp up the stairs and into your house, closing the door hard and locking it behind you. You just want to be alone. 

And alone is what you are. You sulk all night, and to Joel’s credit he does come knocking on your door three times throughout the night, but you ignore him each time, sinking deeper into your couch, cranking the volume on the tv up higher each time. You feel a little bit bad, but Joel didn't take what you said seriously, and now you need to show him that you weren't kidding around. It sucks, it sucks a lot, but you do it, your pride being too strong to give up now. Around ten oclock, Joel’s knocking stops, and you miserably carry yourself up to bed, just wanting the day to end. Tomorrow is your last day of patrol for this week, and the next day is a day off, and you’ve never needed a day off more in your life. 

Sleep doesn’t offer much respite. Your dreams are full of Joel's warm voice, comforting scent and strong body, and you wake up with a pang in your chest that causes your whole body to ache. You miserably drag yourself out of bed, into winter clothes, and over to the stables. There's five people in the stables today, four if you didn’t include yourself, and the sight is weird. Joel avoids your gaze as you sweep the building. Your chest is so tight, your lungs losing all of their air when you look at him. It's Tommy’s voice that snaps you out of your purgatory. 

“A couple weeks ago we had issues with bandits over in no man’s land,” he says, eyes finding you immediately, and you blush in embarrassment. “We’re gonna go down there and check it out, see what we can see. Stick together, we don’t know what these people are capable of,” he explains, and fear rises in your stomach for a moment. That place is bad news. The familiar bad feeling creeps into your skin as you mount Rojo and follow behind the rest of the group, Joel walking behind you quietly. You feel his eyes burning a hole into the back of your head, but you ignore him, just wanting to focus on the task at hand. 

The ride there is painfully quiet, nobody striking conversation in the group, and the quietness allows your anxiety to creep in, hot fear licking at your brain stem and making you shiver. This feels worse than last time, and you don’t know if it's because of the stillness of the Earth or the memory of Ellie nearly dying, but something is hideously not right. Everyone is on high alert, hands on their pistols as they slowly guide their horses into town. You slink down, spine crunching under the pressure of your fear, head beginning to throb. You hate this place. It's quiet, far too quiet. 

The quiet is disturbed when bullets rain from the sky on you and your friends, bodies and horses scrambling in all directions. Rojo bucks you off of his back in the chaos, and you fall to the hard, frozen ground with a thud, the wind being knocked from your lungs. You groan in agony and dry heave, your body lurching but not expelling anything; you skipped dinner yesterday in your anger. You try to compose yourself and drag yourself through the open doors of a building ducking below the wall to take cover. A peek over the ledge shows you your friends scattered, some taking cover behind old cars and giant median cinder blocks. You spot Tommy in the fray, nursing the wound of a man named James, and you count out your friends. Tommy, James, Eugene, you… Four. That’s only four.  _ Fuck. Oh fuck. Where’s Joel?  _ You panic, body producing adrenaline at such a speed you begin to quake as your head flips frantically around the area, desperately looking for Joel. You’re mad at him, but you can't lose him. Definitely not when the last thing you said to him was to leave you alone. Your heart sinks when you can’t find him. You sink to the floor and try to not hyperventilate. 

Your hearing starts to go, the full effects of your panic attack taking over, loud ringing replacing the sound of gunshots and disarray. You close your eyes and try to calm down, get yourself together, and after a moment you get up again to look for Joel. Still nothing. You think for a moment that you might be sick when you see new movement out of your peripheral vision. Your head whips up at the intrusion, and your fear melts away as you stare into the warm gaze of Joel, crouched roughly fifty feet away from you behind a chest high wall. You smile at him, and his face relaxes in relief before screwing up in fear again. You cock your head to the side and hear him yell your name as the base of a gun cracks against your skull and your world fades to black. 

  
  



	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a tad short, so if you don't like graphic depictions of horrible situations you can steer clear and instead opt to read the longer chapter im putting out tonight (or maybe tomorrow)!

When you wake up, everything hurts. Wherever you are smells like rot, damp and dank in your nose, choking you. Opening your eyes gets you nowhere; you've been blindfolded. You're sitting on your legs, pins and needles in them from lack of blood flow making you twitch, and your hands are bound behind your back. A shake of your arms produces a metal on metal sound.  _ Fuck.  _ You're cuffed to a radiator. They rub angrily against your skin. The floor beneath you is cold and hard, and you shift to sit saddleside, and the bite the cuffs inflict on you for moving makes you cry out in surprise. You try to slow your breathing and swallow back the panicked bile creeping up your throat, desperately needing to get a grip on yourself. You'll never get out of here alive if you stay panicked like this.  _ Deep breaths. In eight, out six.  _ Footsteps approaching your room break your concentration.

A door across from you opens, and with the audible flick of a switch around the edges of your blindfold you see light. Footsteps approach you carefully before a hand reaches out and rips the blindfold from your eyes, the light piercing you and making you wince, tears springing forth into your eyes. A hand reaches out and grabs your hair at the top of your head, yanking your head upward, eyes opening with the pull. A lanky, dirty all over blonde man is staring down at you, black teeth showing in his grin. Two more men appear at his sides, twin skinhead’s, shit eating grins on their lips. 

“Look at you,” the main man sings. “So beautiful. I can’t wait to fuck you up.” He drags his thumb across your lower lip. Your stomach churns in response. He releases your head with a haphazard toss and motions for the other two men to move in on you. They each grab an arm while one of them unlocks the cuffs around your wrists, and they yank you up from the floor when they're done. Your knees buckle from a period of disuse, your joints having no blood flow to keep yourself standing, and so they drag you to a chair with leather cuffs on the armrests. You panic against them, struggling to get free, but the men are so much stronger than your tired, hungry body. You curse yourself for not eating the night before you got into this mess. You have hardly any energy to fight.

They practically throw you into the chair, knocking the little wind you had left out of your body. They cuff you roughly, wrists crunching under the weight of the bindings, and you groan in discomfort. The main man slaps you across the face to bring you back to reality. 

“Listen up, princess,” he growls in your face. You stifle a gag at the rancid smell of his breath. He smiles. “You’re gonna tell us what we wanna know. If you don’t we’re gonna fuck you up until you do. Get the idea?” he asks, pleased with himself. You just look up at him, contempt in your eyes, and he snickers down at you. You’re so out of it, beyond any realm of comprehension, but soon you realize you should be thankful for that. It makes it easier to block it out. Easier when the men beat you across the face with their large hands. When they grab you by your neck and squeeze so hard you have to cough, but you can't cough, their hand never leaves your windpipe until your eyes roll. Their evil laughter is all you hear when your vision goes dark. 

The belt bites into the skin of your arms as they beat you, leather cutting through a layer of skin and drawing blood. You cry out and they laugh. They're always laughing. They’re getting great enjoyment out of this. They keep hitting and slapping and laughing at you, and your usually strong psyche is tested. They haven't even asked you any questions yet. They’re going to make you weak before they do. You’re cracking, brain slipping deeper and deeper into blackness, and at one point you slip and you don’t come back for a while.

When you wake up, you're chained to the radiator again, and there's a cup of water in front of you, just within reach for you to pull against the cuffs and grab the lip with your teeth. What a fucking joke. It's excruciating, the cuffs cutting into you when you pull, but the cooling relief the water has on your dried throat is enough to make the pain worth it. You open your throat and let the water crash into your empty stomach, the influx of fluid making it cramp. You need food, it hurts so bad. The cramping in your stomach and the cutting of the cuffs overtakes you again. 

When you wake again, your head is fuzzy and you need to pee. How long have you been here? Where are the men? You really have to pee. So hungry. You can't move. Your abdomen hurts and the bruises on your arms are swelling, angry welts filling with blood. Tears begin streaming down your face, your body sitting frozen on the floor.  _ I’m never going to see Joel again. I was so mad at him the last time we spoke and now I’m going to die here. I’m going to die and he’s going to think I died hating him.  _ The pain is unbearable, your head throbbing as if it could explode off your shoulders. Darkness clouds your vision again, and you know it takes the pain away, so you let it take you away.

When you wake again, the men are standing over you and laughing at you, calling you disgusting. You've pissed yourself while you were passed out. They kick you, bruising your thighs and your back and you just lay there and take it, slipping away within yourself, completely going numb. Where were your friends? Where is Joel?  _ I’m going to die here.  _ The men lift you and put you back in the chair, throwing insults at you as heavy footsteps approach the door. A man with long black hair enters, and the other men cower away from him. It makes you snort. They look at you with disgust but they say nothing. The man crouches in front of you, and you stare blankly into his eyes. He asks you about Jackson, he wants to know how many people there are there, how many weapons you have, but you cant even be bothered to respond to him. You’ve gone completely numb, your psyche broken beyond repair, worse than when you found your parents and their brain matter was splattered all over the walls of your living room.

The leader just looks at you before his face screws up in a disgusted expression. He leans away from you and tells the men to get you to talk, and the hitting begins again. They slap, punch, beat your already tattered body, and when they stop for their boss to interrogate you again, you just stare lifelessly into his eyes. He frowns. At this point, he has to assume you won’t be giving you any information, but for good measure he’ll let the boys have one last crack at it tomorrow. Give you time to think about it, he says. They rip you from the chair and throw you on the floor, chaining you back against the radiator pipes, and they leave you there to think. You don't have the energy to think anymore. You feel nothing. You're floating somewhere, off in the ether, watching your body get abused. You float off and watch yourself get closer and closer to death, the only thought your mind being able to conjure up before you black out again is  _ where is Joel?  _

When you wake up, you can hardly move. Your entire body is covered in black bruises, most of your body's blood content being stored in your upper layer of skin, and the pain in your stomach has evolved in a need to stay crouched over. The men return, and they don't remove you from the floor. They circle around you and you stare in the face of their leader, head wobbling to the side in your weakened state. He smiles at you as the men surround you, crouching down to your level and getting in your space. The one with the black teeth grabs onto your left breast, squeezing harshly. One of the other men whispers disgusting things in your ear, and the third man reaches forward to grope your crotch. Your body retches, stomach acid spilling into your mouth, and they don't stop. The leader just stares down at you, sick smile on his face as he watches his minions assault you. He's so caught in the spectacle that he doesn't hear the loud, frantic footsteps rush into the room. But you do. He doesn't notice when a man slowly comes into your view. But you do. You take this as your one chance for some sort of poetic justice, and you gather up the bile and spit in your mouth and launch it directly in the face of the leader. He yells and slaps you across your face, utterly shocked and disgusted with what you did. You smile at him, and he stares at you with malice. He’s so taken aback by you that he doesn't hear the roar of rage that comes moments before he's grabbed by the back of the neck. 

He only notices what's going on as his life flashes before his eyes as his skull gets stomped in by an enraged black mass. The other three men freeze, deer caught in headlights, and the only thing they can do is watch as the mass grabs each of them, murdering them in his blind rage. Broken necks, slit throats and smashed skulls is all that remains of your assailants. The mass man retrieves the key from the corpse of the leader, unlocks your cuffs, and stops in a crouch in front of you. Your eyes try to focus.

Staring into your eyes are the eyes of Joel, and suddenly the numbness goes away, everything else in the room goes away, and it's just you and him. No bodies, no stale piss smell and cold concrete floor. It's just you staring into the beautiful face of Joel Miller. His face is so wounded. He looks ghastly, Dark circles under his eyes, pale faced. He looks so broken. You reach your weak arms up to his face and hold it, warm cheeks in your frail hands, and you watch Joel buckle. He loops his arms around you, burying his face in your neck, and he holds onto you for dear life, breathing shaky against your skin. You feebly reach around his shoulders and rest your hands against him, breathing in his scent and petting his back slightly. He smells like home, of safety and love and coffee and breakfast in bed and suddenly any anger you felt toward him dissipates. It's just you and him here in your perfect moment, holding each other. A smile breaks against your dry lips, skin cracking and starting to bleed, but you just can't bring yourself to care. He’s here, he found you.  _ He saved me.  _ Tears ooze down your face, your body unable to sob, but you cry nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry,” your broken throat wheezes, the sound wet and weak. Joel buckles, shoulders shaking in agony and rage, and he silently cries into your neck.  _ Oh Joel.  _ You lift your protesting arm up into his hair, cradling his head as he just holds you, grip on your body never wavering. You rub the side of your face against his beard, scratching your face in a welcome way. He abruptly leans away from you and grabs your face in his large hands, cradling your head and inspecting your face. His red, bloodshot eyes move you to cry again, face screwing up. You’re going to ugly cry and you don’t even have the energy to care. Joel just watches you, his hold never wavering even when Tommy, Eugene and James appear in the doorway. You see them in your peripheral, but you can’t bring yourself to care as you stare into Joel’s eyes. After a minute he composes himself and carefully wraps you up in a blanket that Tommy hands him. He lifts you up in his arms like a swaddled baby. You rest your head against his chest lazily.  _ Joel.  _

“Let’s go,” Joel growls, stepping over the cadavers of your captators. The rest of the men follow him outside and to the horses. He never lets you go, holding you tightly to him as he mounts his horse and steers the team back to Jackson. You snuggle into his chest and a smile reaches your lips again before you slip back into blackness.  _ Joel.  _


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read, please take a chance to check out this new update schedule I came up with!  
> Im going to publish a new chapter on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, between the hours of 9pm and 3am EST. (I can't account for all the time differences of my readers, but if you google what the time equivalent in your zone is, it'll tell you!) Every other day, ill be writing at night and responding to your comments, questions or concerns. <3  
> Enjoy this new chapter!

Darkness, never ending darkness that spans for miles and miles fills your brain. And you, stranded in the middle of this black ocean, sit with your knees to your chest, just sitting here in the realms of your consciousness. You hadn’t imagined the inside of your head to really look like this, whenever you pictured it as a kid it always looked like a treehouse. A treehouse with one of those street rugs that you played on in daycare. Lined with shelves and shelves of filing cabinets, storing all of your thoughts and memories. This is nothing like that. This is cold, empty and alone, spanning forever all around you. Deadly still. What happened? Why are you here? Before you could think any longer, you slip again.

When you wake, it's only halfway. Your brain tells your body to move, to sit up and open your eyes and  _ find Joel _ , but your limbs and torso don't respond. It's just you here, awake in the blackness, trapped and unable to move your body. You sit and curl into yourself, hugging your knees back to your chest and rocking slowly. It's so lonely. You want to sleep again, sleep until you can move again. And so you drift.

You wake to voices around your body, and you want to reach out, tell them  _ hey! I’m awake! _ , but you can't. Instead all you can do is listen to Caleb talking to Tommy about your condition as he pokes at your body, changing your iv drip bag to a new, fuller one. You feel a cool liquid course through your veins, but you can't even quiver in discomfort, your body refusing to respond to your brain. You fight against the invisible cement covering your body until voices pull you from focus. 

“Big brother, you should go home,” Tommy says, tone quiet and soft, and your heart swells.  _ He’s here! Joel!  _ Joel grunts from over on the side of the room.

“I ain’ leavin’,” he says simply, tone warning people to not argue with him, and you hear Tommy sigh. 

“Can I get you anythin’? Coffee, a sandwich? You haven't moved in two days, brother,” Tommy says with concern.  _ Holy fuck. Two days! You’ve been comatose for two days? _

“I’m not hungry,” Joel responds simply, and Tommy sighs again before saying goodbye to Joel and Caleb. The doors open and then close. The silence in the room is tense, awkward. Caleb finishes poking you and quietly walks out, and when it's just you and Joel in the room, you hear his chair screech across the linoleum floor until it stops next to your bed. His warm hand wraps around yours, and it's so much warmer than your skin that it feels like fire. You sigh in comfort, though you know he can’t hear it. He lifts your hand from the bed and rests the back of your knuckles against his lips, kissing them gently before resting them against his cheek, and inside your prison you swoon.  _ God please body… Please wake up.  _ You hear Joel take a deep breath, and as you slip away again you hear his honeyed voice start speaking.  _ No! _

You’re so tired. Your body aches, and internally you shiver below the paper thin blanket of the infirmary bed you’re in. The beeping of the heart monitor pierces your ears, but the longer you lay in this cot, the easier it is to drown out. You’re awake, but your body is asleep, the weirdest type of sleep paralysis you’ve ever dealt with being created by the sedatives. You guess they’ve put you under for a while to help promote healing, them not wanting you to disturb the iv in your arms streaming much needed nutrients into your body. It’s so strange, being awake in the dark, hearing the sounds around your body but not being able to see what causes them. The footsteps and the muffled talking, the beeping of the machines hooked up to you, and over in the far corner of the room, light snoring. In the darkness you feel yourself smile.  _ Joel.  _ He’s here, he hasn't left. Comfort washes over you. 

Across the room the door opens, and you hear Joel jolt awake from the intrusion. Caleb lightly laughs at him. You're amazed at your sense of hearing, not being able to see for several days now has heightened your senses immeasurably. You hear Caleb’s calm breathing and soft footsteps as he approaches your bed, the soft rubber soles of his arch support sneakers squishing with each of his steps. Joel's breathing is rough, deep and anxious. He must be worried about what Caleb is going to say. 

“We’re going to take her off the sedative today. She should wake up in a few hours after it works out of her system. You should go home an shower before she does,” Caleb jokes, and you don't hear Joel laugh, rather you feel the glare he’s giving Caleb. You hear Caleb cringe. “Trust me, it’ll be a few hours.” He says before him and his squishy soles make it to the door and leave, leaving just you and Joel. You don’t think you want him to leave, you’ll be alone here with the beeping and the darkness without anyone else and you just don’t think you can handle that right now. As if Joel reads your mind, he slides his chair up to you again and grasps your hand, kissing it and whispering  _ I’m staying right here.  _ You swoon and allow yourself to drift again, eager to pass the time while sleeping instead of sitting in your dark purgatory. 

When you wake for the final time, your eyes shoot open in shock and you immediately wince, groaning at the brightness of the infirmary lights.  _ Jesus fuck, it’s like staring at the sun.  _ You screw your eyes shut and cringe away from the light, slowly opening them to let them adjust. When the pain subsides, you glance down to Joel, who has completely fallen asleep with his head on his hand, his other hand in yours, and you smile at him.  _ So calm.  _ You almost don't want to wake him. 

And so you don’t. Instead you stare at his relaxed features, brows resting high on his forehead instead of down, scrunched next to his eyes. The right side of his face is pulled taut against his hand, and you smile at the asymmetry. You squeeze his hand, happy to finally be able to tell your arms to move, and he doesnt wake up at first from how soft your grip has gotten. You squeeze a little harder, opting to flutter your fingers against his palm which seemingly does the trick. Joel stills remarkably and his eyes shoot open as he stares at your hand. It’s almost as if he can hardly believe it moved. His eyes carefully move up your arm, over your torso and to your face, and when they meet yours you smile sweetly at him. 

“Hi,” you wheeze out, and he visibly relaxes at having heard your voice. He smiles at you, but it doesn’t reach his troubled eyes.

“Hi. How do you feel?” He whispers, and you try your best to shrug. You glance down at your arms, the black bruises having calmed down to a navy blue color, the blood slowly draining away from the surface of your skin, capillaries healing. You flex your muscles and are met with soreness that makes you stop breathing momentarily. You swallow, and a dull ache in your throat overtakes your senses. You exhale deeply.

“Sore, everywhere,” you wheeze out, voice still needing to recover from the ruthless choking the three men inflicted on your throat. Joel's face screws up at the sound and his eyes move to stare at the floor. You squeeze his hand again. “Thank you for saving me.” 

He scoffs at this and shakes his head, not bringing himself to speak. He just peppers your knuckles with kisses again before nuzzling into your hand. Now that he's awake, the stress in his face has returned, bags carving themselves a path under his eyes. He looks worse than you do, and you were chained to a radiator for…

“How long?” You ask, and Joel glances up at you. “How long did they have me?” He closes his eyes and sighs for a moment.

“Three days,” he anguishes, and it's not the admission that moves you to tears, it's the tone of his voice. It’s downright fucking painful to hear Joel this way. You squeeze his hand again. 

“I’m back now,” you squeeze out of your chest. “You saved me,” Joel doesn’t respond, just nuzzles your hand against his cheek and shakes his head, rocking back and forth gently. You frown. You’re pulled from your observation of Joel by a commotion outside the door, and suddenly Ellie bursts through it, tears in her eyes.

“You’re finally awake!” She yells as she jogs up to you and envelops your battered body into a haphazard hug. You hug her back with a meager hand on her lower back, and Joel just pays her no mind, still rocking back and forth with your hand against his face. “We were so worried dude. I've never seen the people in this town so worried,” Ellie glances over at Joel before leaning into your ear. “Especially him. He wouldn't sleep until they found you.” You blush, eyes widening as you look at Joel. His head isn't facing you, but you see him looking at you from the corner of his eye, and your chest cramps, a sob forming. 

“I missed you too Ells,” you whisper, and Ellie frowns at the state of your voice. “What did I miss while I was gone?” Ellie perks up at this, happy you asked and even happier to talk. She tells you how she got to fill in for the week on patrols while everyone was looking for you, tells you that Christine is  _ pregnant _ , and tells you all about how her and Cat are dating now. You smile at her, her radiant enthusiasm infectious, and a welcome distraction. She talks and talks animatedly for an hour before Caleb appears in your doorway. Ellie stops abruptly before taking a big step back from your bed to give Caleb room.

“How’re ya feelin?” He asks cheerily. You shrug.

“I’m not dead,” you remark dryly, and Caleb exhales through his nose at you.

“You don't have any broken bones, just severe bruising and lacerations on your arms. Your windpipe and larynx are bruised so it'll hurt to eat and drink for a while, and you were dehydrated and malnourished,” he reads off your chart, and you groan at the long list. “No solid chunks of food for a week, let that throat heal up a bit before you cram it full of food, mkay?” You nod begrudgingly. Caleb starts removing your IV line, pulling the needle from your skin and pressing a cotton ball with tape over the slowly bleeding hole. “Beyond that, you can go home. Come back if anything new starts to happen,” and with that, hes gone. Joel has gone from sitting to standing, hovering next to where you lay expectantly. You smile up at him, and through the corner of your eyes you see Ellie shifting uncomfortably. Her relationship with Joel hasn’t improved at all, evident by her discomfort at his close proximity. You frown. 

“Ellie, you should go. I don’t want you to see me like this,” you warn, and Ellie’s face scrunches you before she nods, mumbling to you a quiet goodbye. She’s out of the room in seconds, leaving just you and Joel. You smile up at him, putting on your strongest face, and sit up slowly. His hands shoot out to you, supporting your back as you shift, carefully dangling your naked feet over the bed. You shiver. 

“Can I have my clothes?” You ask Joel. He nods and with extreme trepidation steps away from you, his anxiety toward leaving you alone on the bed palpable. He brings you sweatpants, your grey hoodie, a pair of panties and socks. You take them from him gingerly and slowly reach down to put on your socks, but pain in your abdomen stops you with a grunt. Joel takes the socks from you and sits down before grasping your foot and gently slipping your socks on for you. You blush. 

“Post apocalyptic Cinderella,” you joke dryly, and Joel chuckles at you before rubbing the pad of your foot gently. You moan softly. “As much as I would love a foot massage right now, I’m really cold. I wanna get dressed.” 

Joel nods his head slowly before dropping your foot and reaching out for your hands. You take his gently and use them to balance you as you stand, your sore muscles screaming in protest at the movement. You grunt as they settle into your new standing position, and you carefully turn around to grab your clothes. You reach to untie your gown before you stop. You glance over your shoulder to Joel, a shy blush creeping over your face. 

“Could you uh… Could you turn around, go face the corner maybe?” You squeak, and Joel cocks an eyebrow at you. “I’m shy…” You explain, and he makes no move to fulfill your request. 

“I don’t want you to fall over,” he states simply, and you sigh. You don’t want to argue, but you aren’t feeling exactly confident and like yourself in your current state. You give him puppy eyes. 

“I can catch myself on the bed. Please?” You plead, and after a beat Joel sighs and rubs his face before going and standing in front of the window to your room, facing the hallway. You smile. You undo your gown carefully and let the material cascade down your skin, and when it brushes against your bruises and cuts you inhale sharply. Joel shifts, fighting the urge to run to your side, but you just ignore him. In front of you there’s a closet with a body length mirror, and you stare at yourself in it after you pull on your panties. 

Your body is pale, battered and it looks so weak. You feel defeated. Your breasts look smaller from malnutrition, your lower ribs are defined beneath your skin, and your hip bones jut out, jagged edges replacing what was once rounded and smooth peaks. You stifle a sob, you’ve never felt this horrible about your appearance in your entire life, and you dress as quickly as you can, not wanting to see yourself any longer. When you’re done you go and stand next to Joel, head leaning against his bicep, and he glances down at you. You don’t meet his gaze. 

“I wanna go home now,” you whisper, trying to mask the pain in your voice. You don’t know if it worked. You just know you feel numb as you slip on your shoes, as you take Joel’s hand and as he walks you home through the snowy streets of Jackson. Anxiety peaks within you when you see people staring as you walk by, and you pull your hood up over your face, aiming to hide how stark you look. You don’t want to be seen by anyone. You feel a bit of relief when you’re finally able to plop yourself down on your couch, in the privacy of your home, save for Joel of course. He builds a fire for you, your supply of wood replenished, and then he sits next to you on the couch, legs crossed and hand draped across the spine of the couch. His hand caresses the back of your head, petting and massaging gently, and you feel your walls shift, the bricks around your brain bending against the force of the hurricane whirling within you. You feel your chin quiver, and you lean forward and place your head in your hands, sobs wracking your chest. 

The past few month’s events implode in your brain, pounding against your skull and making you cry harder, eagerly hoping tears will release the pressure. It’s all too much. Completely being caught off guard, changing your ways when you swore you never would. Finding comfort in a teenage girl, allowing yourself to love her like she's family. Finding someone that you have romantic feelings for; you swore it was completely and totally unthinkable, you’d die alone in this world, bitter and cynical. Opening up to him. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable. _Liking it._ Then the tension, the fighting, the frustration. Being kidnapped and then thinking _oh god, I’m never going to see him again, I'm going to die here and he's going to think I died angry at him._ And the _numbness_ , slipping and losing yourself to the darkness again after you finally began to be free. It's just _too much._ You wail, loud angry sobs crashing through your entire body like the ocean’s waves during a storm. Snot drips from your nose and in your broken and frenzied state you can’t even care. It just drains from you. The agony, the stress, it drains from your eyes and your nose and your mouth and leaves your body.

You’re acutely aware of Joel watching you, sitting away from you, giving you space. You don’t know if you want him to hold you, comfort you, or just let your ride this out on your own. You decide to just be glad; his comfort would end up making you feel guiltier of the way you acted toward him. You want him to open up, but you shouldn’t yell at him. As the sobs calm down, you snort and wipe your snot off your face with your sleeve messily before turning toward Joel.

“I’m s-sorry,” you gasp out in between sobs, apologizing to him bringing on a new wave of emotion. He just stares at your face, a deep frown on his lips. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you that day. I was just frustrated,” you explain, talking animatedly with your hands, and he just watches you jostle about in your exasperation. You huff and your lips quiver, another round of sobs coming over you, and you reach up to cover your mouth with your sleeve, not wanting Joel to see that you’re a horribly ugly crier. You bawl quietly into your hand, staring down and away from Joel, instead focusing on your knees. He shifts and reaches over to hold your hand, warm skin calming your cold, shaking fingers, and you feel yourself relax immediately just from his touch. You inhale a shaky breath before you look up at him, tears streaming down your cheeks, and his face softens into one of concern as he looks at you. He scooches near you on the couch and takes your face in his large hands, thumbs gently wiping away tears, though the tenderness of the gesture inspires more in their wake. 

Joel just gazes into your eyes, only stopping to blink, and your hands reach up to rub small circles on the insides of his wrists. The feel of his skin on yours grounds you, giving you enough purchase to calm your sobbing, and after a moment he moves a hand to rest at the base of your skull, rubbing gently before bringing your forehead to his lips and pressing a tender kiss against it. He then leads your head to the crook of his neck, where you nuzzle into his hot flesh, nose bumping against his pulse and relishing in the delicious heat he gives off. You shift to curl up in his lap, and he leans back on the couch before wrapping you in a blanket and curling his arms around you. You don’t move for awhile, just instead opting for breathing Joel in, gently brushing your nose up and down his neck. He holds you close to him, arm protectively cradling your lower back, carefully minding your bruises. His other hand rubs across your shoulders, gently skimming his fingertips over the blanket, the feeling making you sleepy. You move your hands up against Joel’s chest, and you ball the material of his shirt up in your hands, gripping him and not wanting to let him go. You hear his chuckle as you drift off to sleep.

When you wake, a cursory glance at the alarm clock shows it's around two in the morning. You sit up, confused that you fell asleep on Joel’s lap but woke up in your bed, but a light snoring breaks your focus. You look over to a black pile on the other side of your bed, and as your eyes focus in the darkness you see that it's Joel. Your heart swells when you realize he wanted to stay the night with you, and immediately you slide back under the covers and wrap an arm around him before nuzzling your face into his spine. You breathe deeply, the warm and safe smell of Joel fills your senses, and you will yourself to go back to sleep. 

Your eyes groggily slide open a few hours later, feeling gritty and dry from sleeping hard. You blink away the feeling and sit up, gently stretching your muscles in your arms before wincing in pain. You suppose today they hurt less, more so a nine out of ten as opposed to a ten out of ten on the pain scale. When you look around, you notice Joel isn't in your bed anymore, and you frown.  _ Where did he go… _

You slide out of bed gently, carefully standing on your weak legs, before tip toeing down your stairs. In the fireplace, a small fire roars, warming the downstairs, and you smile.  _ So he’s still here… _ You slink around the wall of your dining room to find a tall Joel looming over your stove, gently cooking something on the top. You creep up behind him and decide to gently wrap your arms around his waist. He chuckles. 

“Good mornin’,” he muses, voice light. You smile against his back, eyes closed and leeching off his warmth.

“Mmm,” is your response, voice quiet and weak from the combination of abuse and sleeping like the dead. Joel rubs your hands gently before going back to what he's doing. A quick glance around his side shows that he's making scrambled eggs and soft cooked bacon, careful to not have it be too crisp as to not aggravate your throat, and you smile largely at him, hugging him closer to you and pushing your crown into his spine. 

“I made you coffee,” he says over his shoulder, and you squeal with delight. He gestures to the kitchen island behind him, and with chagrin you break from his waist and greedily snatch the warm liquid up. You're thankful for the cold winter air; it’s cooled the coffee down enough that you can drink it without scorching your damaged throat, and you exhale with a happy hum as it goes down smooth. You plop down gently in one of the stools behind the island and lazily watch Joel, head resting in your left hand, right hand warming itself on your coffee mug. A small smile plays on your lips. Joel Miller, the dreamy domestic type, (when he’s not bashing in the skulls of your assailants, of course.) 

After a few minutes, Joel plates your food and places your plate in front of you before moving to take a seat next to you. He kisses the top of your head as he eases himself onto the stool, quietly commanding you to eat as he passes your ear. You blush, embarrassed that the tone of his voice still reaches your groin in your weakened state, and you do as you're told. You shovel the food in your mouth and decide to ask him how he can make something as simple as an egg taste so fucking good, and then you finish your last bite off with a healthy swig of coffee. Your stomach shouts it's protest at you, not used to being so full of food after days of not eating, but you mentally tell it to shut up and digest it. You chuckle at yourself when you realize you just had an imaginary argument with your stomach and hum lightly as you finish your coffee. You feel infinitely better today, food and coffee and Joel helping heal you exponentially. You chug the last bit of your coffee before putting your plate and mug in the sink and kissing Joel on the cheek on your way back upstairs. You desperately want to shower. 

The grime and the filth and the feeling of your piss covered pants sticking to your legs haunts you, and so you eagerly enter your bathroom, shut the door and strip. You do a once over of your body, trying to not be so critical of yourself, but you can't help it. You look like shit, genuine shit, but the bruises have faded a bit more today, lightening again and taking on a bit of a green hue around the edges. They’re hideous, but at least you know they’re healing, and you hope the hot water will dull some of your ache. You start the shower and test the water, making sure it's warm enough before stepping under the stream. You climb in and immediately put your body in the center of the stream, letting the water cascade in rivulets down the circumference of your head before soaking your body in it’s warmth. You stand there for a while, completely frozen in the healing stream before gingerly deciding to wash your body. You slowly scrub your hair, scraping your nails against your scalp until it aches. You need to feel clean, not just be clean. You want to shave off your skin and have new skin, untainted skin, unbeaten skin. Instead you have to settle for this, for burning water and a rough loofah. You need to be careful over most of your arms, the cuts from the lashings begging to not be reopened, but you try to clean yourself as best you can around that setback. While conditioner sits in your hair you decide to shave your armpits, and then after that brush your teeth, hoping these things will make you feel better about yourself. 

Once you’re rinsed off, you carefully step out of the shower and towel off, drying your body and climbing back into your hoodie and sweatpants before wrapping your hair in a towel turban. You yawn gently, the exertion from showering tiring out your body, and you decide to head back downstairs, carefully pittering down the cold boards of the staircase. You jump in surprise when you see Joel relaxing on the couch. 

“Hey, don’t you have work?” You ask as you lean your elbows on his wide shoulders. 

“Got the week off ta’ spend with you,” he says warily, gauging your reaction. You smile and kiss the top of his head before plopping down on the couch next to him. 

“Lucky me,” you jest, and he rolls his eyes. “Whatcha wanna do?” Joel pauses a moment, looking off in thought before shrugging. “We could watch movies?” you suggest, and Joel chuckles at this. 

“You wouldn’t like my typa’ movie,” he says dismissively, and you furrow your brows at him.

“And why do you say that, huh?” You ask, teasingly poking the fleshy part of his side. 

“I like eighties era action movies,” he admits feebly, and you burst out laughing at him.

“Oh please, who doesn’t?” you ask, and he turns to you and smiles, teeth shining at you in his grin. He kisses you, and you happily accept the contact, pulling him into your by the collar of his shirt. He groans against you, the kiss deepening before he quickly breaks away from you. You huff. 

“Alright then, lemme go get ‘em. Sit your pretty self here, I’ll be right back,” he says with an extended index finger as he jumps up from your couch and walks hastily through your front door. You smile. A movie day with Joel. A whole  _ week  _ with Joel! When he returns he has about eight movies in total, and he excitedly pops one into your dvd player before sitting and snuggling with you on the couch. You make it through four of the movies by the time it's dark outside, and he ventures out to get the two of you dinner. You both eat with one another before deciding to turn in for the night. You head for the stairs, and Joel hesitates in the middle of the living room. You turn to him with a puzzled expression.

“You comin’?” You ask, gesturing up the stairs with your head, and Joel scratches his neck before following you up into your room. He sits heavily on the edge of the bed, and you head to your closet to find a shirt to change into for sleep. You find one and quickly lift it over your head, not worrying about your naked torso around Joel in the darkness of your room. You quickly shrug your shirt over your body, and then change into a pair of shorts before slipping under the covers of your bed. Joel lays flat on his back, uncomfortably staring at your ceiling, and you frown. You slide over to him and in a moment of bravery, you slide his right arm up and slide in between it and his body. You settle against his shoulder, snuggling into the muscle there, and you wrap your leg around his. Slides his arm down to rest around your back and spine, and you smile.

“Goodnight,” you whisper to him.

“Goodnight.” 

The next two days follow the same pattern. Joel makes you breakfast, you spend the whole day in his arms, and he continues to act as though you're made of porcelain. When he kisses you, he stops things before they get too escalated, and you suppose you can understand why, but you’re healing fairly fast and it's hard to push down these feelings of attraction and desire for him. It’s always been hard, but the more time he spends here with you, it builds, your feelings for him growing and growing with each day. 

You worry again when you feel the familiar frustration build. He still hasn’t opened up to you the way you have to him, and you’d hoped by now that he would’ve, or at least made an effort to. You don't want to pry or push him, but if this relationship is meant to develop, you'll need to talk to him about it soon. That, or he’ll need to do it on his own volition, and you’re starting to lose hope that that option will ever happen. 

At the end of your third day together, Joel follows you quietly up to your room, seeming very distant. You two had a good day. Breakfast, kissing with Joel stopping things before they got too far, and then poker and movies. What could be eating him? He sullenly climbs into bed, and you climb in next to him before snuggling into his side, your new nighttime ritual while he stays with you. All the thinking you did today has you completely beat, and you fall asleep relatively fast, the protection of Joel’s arm cradling you while you drift. 

You have no idea how long you’re asleep, you just know you're startled awake by Joel sitting up in bed abruptly. You shoot up and crawl over to him, reaching around his shaking shoulders. 

“Hey, hey,” you coo, grasping his shoulders and lightly shaking. “What’s wrong?” Joel says nothing at first, just stiffens in your hands, and you move to rubbing a circle in the middle of his shoulder blades. He turns and looks at you, and in the dim moonlight coming through your windows, you can see his terror in his eyes, the paleness of his skin, and your heart sinks. He quickly spins around and crushes you into a hug, burying his face in your neck and holding onto you as if his life depends on it, and you sit in shock for a moment before looping your arms around his torso.

“I almost lost you,” he whispers against your shoulder, and tears well in your eyes at the sound of his voice, broken and scared. 

“But you didn’t. You came and saved me,” you remind him gently, rubbing your fingers through his hair. He shakes his head.

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to,” he says, pulling back from you to gaze into your face. You scrunch your brows and tilt your head, giving Joel his own signature curious look. He gulps.

“You asked me to leave you alone… and then they took you and I-” he stops himself, shaking his head. 

“I’m sorry,” you begin. “I was just frustrated. I feel like we always get closer and then you pull away from me, and then you don’t open up to me the way I did to you, and it frustrates me. I shouldn’t have said that to you.” You explain in earnest, reaching out to rub the side of his face with your thumb. Joel just stares at you for what feels like an eternity, the gears of his brain visibly turning behind his eyes. Finally, he sighs.

“I haven’t opened up for anyone like this in a very long time,” he mumbles, and you drop your hand from his face as his head drops shamefully. “I’m the same as you, it’s been so long for me, I… I’m afraid of openin’ up. Every time I get closer ta’ you somethin’ tells me ta’ pull away, back up. I don’t know why,” he explains, voice hushed and ashamed, and you soften.  _ Shit… _

“Are you worried I’m going to judge you? That I’ll hate you once I truly get to know you?” You ask, and Joel nods.

“I’m not a good man, (y/n). I’ve killed people, hurt people,” he says solemnly. You shake your head.

“You did what you had to do to survive,” you say, lifting his face by gently placing your hand below his chin. “We’ve all done things we aren't proud of. For ourselves, for the people we love. You do what you have to do to survive, that's just the way the world is now,” you tell him, and his eyes bore into yours, considering the words you said. You sigh. 

“It’s what you do with your survival that counts. What you do with the things you’ve done that counts. You saved Ellie from the Firefly doctors. You saved  _ me _ from those fucking bandit bastards. From what I know, that shit is all valid,” you say with conviction. 

“There’s so much you don’ know about me,” he grumbles, shaking his head. You grab his hand and squeeze it.

“Then tell me. I want to know you, Joel. And not the you that everyone else sees. I want to know your secrets, your darkest thoughts, the shit you're ashamed of. Please let me know you,” you beg, and the energy between you and Joel pauses, completely stilling for a second, impossibly tense as you both stare at each other in the dim light of your bedroom. The only thing you hear is your heartbeat in your ears and Joel’s shaky breathing.

And then the band snaps. Joel leans over to you, closing the gap and capturing your lips in a desperate kiss. You kiss him back, matching his intense need as you snake your fingers into his hair, craning his head and pulling on it lightly. He groans, climbing above you and laying you flat on your bed between settling between your legs, body pressing into yours, sandwiching you deliciously between his chest and the mattress. His left hand reaches your face, angling your head up so he can slip his tongue between your lips, and his right slides down your side before settling on your hip, which he grips firmly. You press your legs against his sides, holding him to you as your hips let out a cursory grind against his own, and to your shock he responds, grinding back against you. Your moan of shock breaks the kiss.

“What happened to going slow, cowboy?” You ask teasingly. Joel growls above you.

“There ain’t time for that anymore,” he responds before diving down to kiss your neck, lips hot and wet against your skin. His hand abandons your throat and slides down your body to your breast, and he gently drags his thumb across your nipple, tickling it until it becomes erect beneath his hand. You moan at the contact, and Joel laughs at you darkly before biting into your pulse. You twitch and moan loudly, hips bucking into Joel’s at the sensation, and he gently thrusts himself against your clothed core, his hardness beneath his pants giving you enough friction to make your head whirl. He pulls away from you abruptly, leaving you chilled and writhing beneath him. He tugs on your shirt.

“Get this off,” he commands, and as you quickly comply with his request, he removes his own shirt and shimmies out of his pants, leaving him in just his boxers. In the dim light of your room you can see the outline of him through the cloth, and your pussy clenches in response, needy and curious to see if you’ll be able to accommodate his size. He isn't the biggest you’ve ever seen, but you’d guess he’s close to seven inches and decently thick. Your eyes find his again, which are trained directly on your chest, breasts illuminated by the moonlight. You blush and move to cover yourself out of shyness, but his hands stop you before he pushes you flat against the bed again.

“You don’t need to hide from me,” he growls before he lowers his head to your chest and blows a stream of cool air against your nipple. You squirm from the sensation, and the reaction spurs Joel on. He runs his hands over your breasts before taking your nipples between his thumbs and middle fingers. He pinches them lightly, rolling them between his digits, and you swallow back a lewd moan. He sinks down again to kiss your neck, trailing wet kisses down your body to your right nipple, which he engulfs in his mouth. You moan, and he pulls your nipple between his teeth and flicks his tongue against it for good measure, and you feel it deep in your guts. You jut your hips against him, seeking precious friction, and he exhales a laugh through his nose before breaking from your chest. 

He slowly slinks down your body, kissing your belly as he goes, before he hooks his fingers into your sweatpants and goes to remove them. He slides them down a fraction before stopping and looking at you, and you nod eagerly at him, begging him silently to take them off. He smiles like the cheshire cat and slowly he pulls your sweatpants down. His breath hitches when he sees you have no panties, and he giddily lays down between your legs, eyes trained on the most intimate part of you. You shiver under his gaze, pussy clenching in front of him, and you feel a drop of slick slide down your lips. Joel just watches you in a trance, eyes following the slick drop, but before it hits the bed he stops it with his middle finger. You squeak at the sudden contact, and as his finger sinks into you, you sigh in relief. He slides it in and out of you one time before he removes it and replaces it with his lips.

Your breath catches in your throat as he kisses your core, lips lightly pressing against yours, tongue slowly jutting out to lick into your heat. You curse, a string of expletives leaving your lips as he slowly drags his tongue up your pussy to your clit. He pauses there, and you know he's looking up at you, you can just feel it. You sit up a bit and glance down at him, face in your cunt, and you clench against his face. 

“Please,” you beg, desperately needing some sort of relief from him. He blinks innocently at you before slowly dragging his tongue over your bud, and you dissolve back against the bed sheets. He sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue swirling against you slowly, and a strangled noise leaves your throat. He chuckles before pulling away from you, and you groan in disappointment. You hear clothing shuffling, and then suddenly Joel is above you, handsome face shining down at you. You gaze at him through your lashes, and he leans down and kisses you tenderly. When you buck your hips against him again, his responding touch comes from hot skin, and you moan against his lips. He took his boxers off on the way up. Joel sits back a bit above you before putting his left hand under your knee, his right hand gripping the base of his cock. He rubs it between your folds gently, up and down your clit, making you squirm. He looks down at you, silently asking if you're ready.

“Please,” you rasp out, voice hoarse from your arousal, and Joel doesn't hesitate to push into you. The stretch you feel causes your eyes to roll and your mouth to slip open, your twenty some odd year dry spell ending. You feel so full, pussy stretched to the max as Joel bottoms out, and you feel him bump against your cervix. You gasp when he grabs your other knee and pushes it back, pulling you wide open for him, and he groans as he looks down at you taking him all the way inside you. He pulls back slowly, watching as your pussy lips slide against his shaft, and you quake momentarily under him. You need him to go faster. 

“I-I’m not made of glass, you know,” you say quietly, and Joel’s eyes darken marginally. He places your legs on his shoulders before dropping down close to your face. He watches you as he slides all the way out and then back in, observing your wanton look of pure ecstasy, and he chuckles darkly. He captures your lips as he pulls out of you, this time slamming back into you roughly, and his lips block your shriek of shock. Joel places his hands on either side of your head before adopting a punishing pace, slamming into you repeatedly, and it’s so good you cant even make any noises, just lay against the bed and kiss Joel with your mouth lax stupidly in shock. A nip at your lip regains your focus, and in your daze you reach up and grasp Joel's face, pulling hard on his hair. His response is a roar and to start fucking into you faster and harder, and you mouth falls open as you stare up into his eyes, arousal overtaking your brain. 

You feel yourself getting closer, the combination of Joel’s fast paced fucking and his pubic bone beating against your cervix bringing you closer to the edge, and Joel can see it written all over your face. He starts going faster, and he leans back again to push you knees down toward your chest, bringing your pussy up higher in the air. You moan loudly as his tip brushes against your nerves, and you see him lick his thumb before pushing it down against your clit, rubbing firm circles against you. You shriek, and Joel laughs at you from above. 

“Come on now,” he says, punctuating his words with hard, sloppy thrusts. He must be close too. He pounds into you a few more times before you feel your entire lower body tighten, and you quickly look up into his eyes. The look they hold alone makes you cum, and you cover your mouth to subdue your scream. Joel lets you ride it out, and just as your shaking subsides he pulls out of you, finishing on your stomach. He leans forward, catching his breath for a moment, before stepping off the bed and getting you a towel. He wipes your abdomen off and then collapses next to you in bed, while you lay flat against the sheet, completely awestruck and paralyzed. He laughs at you before leaning over you and waving a hand in front of your eyes.

“Hello?” He asks, and you just exhale and blink in response. Joel laughs at you and kisses your cheek, which slightly helps you gain your bearings. You roll your neck to face him lazily, and you smile. He smiles back. You slide over to him and curl up in his chest, and he hugs you and kisses your hair. You melt. He pulls the blankets over the both of you, snuggles into you again, and you both sleep in your post coital bliss. 

  
  



	17. Chapter 17

You kiss Joel goodbye as he leaves for patrol, your week together ending as he steps through your front door.. The phrase “time flies when you’re having fun!” plays in your head, and you scoff and roll your eyes. Understatement of the century. This week has come and gone in a blink, and as you watch Joel meander down the snowy street and to the stables, you sigh, warm breath fogging up the glass of the window you're looking through. You rub the pad of your thumb against the wood grain of the windowsill before stepping back, Joel disappearing from your view. You rub your face.

Thinking back on your week together, multiple days spent in bed canoodling or on the couch watching movies, playing board games or sharing stories from your lives before the world went to shit makes your chest tighten, muscles squeezing in around your heart. It's been about fifteen minutes and you already miss him an embarrassing amount. You scoff. What's happening to you?

_ You’re a lovesick teenager,  _ your conscience sneers, and you roll your eyes in defeat. She’s right. That’s exactly what this feels like. This feels like the time John with the brown hair and ocean blue eyes kissed you at the homecoming football game and danced with you the day after. Well… Joel’s eyes are more of a greyish green-brown, but the hair color is still the same. The thought makes you laugh. Joel, a hardened cowboy with twenty years of shit buried within his heart, brings you breakfast in bed and cuddles you and always makes sure you finish first. Who’da thunk? Definitely not you.

You exasperate yourself with that mantra, reminding yourself several times  _ daily _ that you’d never imagined this would happen to you, in your twenty years of what you hardly define as living, you never imagined you'd be in a settlement, developing stronger and stronger connections as days go by. You’re happy. For the first time in years you can really, firmly admit you’re  _ happy _ , and you carry this with you throughout what you don’t want to admit to yourself is a painfully boring day. You’ve read all of your books, you’ve cleaned and rearranged everything in this house so many times that you just stare at the fading, peeling wallpaper, bouncing your leg as you sink into the couch. 

An idea dawns. Joel’s house has mountainous bookshelves in the living room, you’re sure he wouldn't mind you just borrowing a book or two from him. He knows how bored you are being trapped inside, stuck to the confines of the walls of Jackson for another week and a half, maybe longer. You waste no time throwing on your hoodie and winter boots before making the short but snowy journey over to Joel’s house. The comforting scent of Joel fills your nose, warm and woody and caffeinated, as you step inside. Even though his house is similar to yours, it feels so much bigger, so much more adult, with his bigger bookcases and his bigger dining room table, bigger kitchen and stairwell. The house seems so  _ Joel.  _ Warm toned, rustic. Wood accents and green decorative pillows. All practically untouched. You laugh to yourself when you spy the thick layer of dust on the pillows. Joel doesn’t even bother with these things. There’s a Joel’s ass shaped dent in the arm chair in the corner of the room, but besides that, you can tell Joel hardly goes much place else in here. You wander over to the bookshelf, spying the thick layer of dust that has now expanded to cover just about everything on this half of the room, and your allergies almost immediately flare up.

“Hell no,” you say, pulling your hoodie over your nose, not looking to suffer an allergy attack without the help of easily accessible antihistamines.  _ Fuck. No.  _ You wander to the downstairs closet and search for a rag, and you find a battered old shirt. You shrug and decide this will do. As carefully as you can, you remove all the books from their spots on the shelves, dusting their spines off carefully before cleaning their home shelf and replacing them in alphabetical order. The chance to organize makes you happy. Some semblance of order, of control in a world where you can’t organize or control really anything else. You smile beneath the protective layer of your hood, peering through the protective cover of your lashes and half closed eyes as you continue tidying Joel's shelves. Your fingers dance over the spines of the books, tickling them as you read their titles, leaving the ones you want to read off to the side.  _ The Phantom of the Opera, The Canterbury Tales, White Fang  _ and  _ Moby Dick  _ are the starters for your new repertoire, a welcome change from the novels in your own shelves which you’ve read several times over at this point. 

As you dust, you also notice Joel’s impressive collection of  _ The World Vista, Volumes I-XXVII.  _ These books were  _ not  _ cheap, and Joel got lucky enough to have a complete set of them, simply in his possession due to the apocalypse. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all. As hefty a task it may be, you decide you're going to try to read the entire collection of the encyclopedias before you die, figuring now was as good a time as any to learn as much as you can about the previous world in hopes it could carry over. After you're done, you collapse onto the dusty couch and shut your eyes quickly, waiting until the dust settles to open them again. You wave your hands around to blow the dust away from you, and when the coast is clear you lean up from your seat to spy the magazines stacked on the edge of the table. 

Woodworking and carving… Your eyebrows shoot up in interest. Can Joel do that? Make shit out of wood? It would be really cool if he could… Your head whips up to peer out the open living room entrance and into the hallway, at some wooden animals on a shelf near the door. You quickly stand and rush over to it, eyes raking over the various animals. A doe, a lion, an ostrich and a zebra. Your hands gently scale the surface of the wooden creatures, their shapes delicately carved by their maker, and you wonder if Joel made them. They’re so meticulously crafted, eyes somehow having a lustre to them, giving them a lifelike appearance when they’re merely carved from the corpses of trees. The attention that's been given to the detail of their bodies, their furs and feathers being delicately crafted, small embellishments making each feather or hair seem real, moving softly under the flow of air from the house. They’re so cared for, made with passion, emotion poured into each of their grooves. Their delicacy is nearly overwhelming. 

You admire them for a few moments more before returning back to Joel’s sofa with a book, opting to stay in his house for a change of scenery. Your finger breaks the seal of  _ The Phantom of the Opera _ , the spine crackles under the stretch of the separation, and you begin reading. 

Hours pass, you delve more into the life of Christine Daae, engrossed in her story, and you’re pulled from your focus when the seal of the front door cracks open, footsteps walking into the wall. You glance up at the fireplace, focusing your hearing, but decide there’s no reason for alarm. You pick up where you left off reading when footsteps reach the doorway to the living room, stopping abruptly. You place your finger over the word you just read so as to not lose your place, and glance over your right shoulder at a confused Joel. You smile at him warmly.

“Hey,” you say, dog earring your page and placing the book down gently. Joel raises a brow at you. “I could use new books and a change of scenery, I hope you aren't angry...” You shyly explain, moving to stand from your comfortable spot on the couch. Joel smiles at you as you approach.

“Fine by me,” he says, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You kiss him back gently before breaking away. 

“Did you carve those?” You abruptly ask, pointing over to the shelves next to the door. You can almost see the slight tinge of blush on Joel’s cheeks. He scratches his neck.

“Yeah, they’re mine,” he says humbly. Your eyes light up, heels bouncing up and down.

“They’re fantastic! You’re so talented,” you gush, your secret appreciation for the various different types of art pouring from your heart. You loved talent like that so much. Painting, making music, writing, whatever kind of talent or affinity to art, you enjoyed it. Enthused about it. You loved to bask in the personality of those with some sort of talent, since you always considered yourself quite plain. You didn’t have hobbies, couldn't play an instrument or write, couldn’t sing or paint. It wasn't something you were ashamed of, it didn’t affect your self esteem, you just always found yourself to be quite plain in the comparison of others who had something  _ palpable _ that they were good at. Joel flushes at your gushing. 

“They ain’ that good, honey,” he chuckles, and you roll your eyes. 

“Joel, you can make goddamn hyper realistic animals out of  _ wood!”  _ You squawk, gesturing over to the shelf again. “You treat me right, you can wood carve, if I say so myself you might be the bees knees! All that and a bag of chips!” You lightly punch his chest in excitement. He just laughs down at you. You smile brightly up at him, corners of your eyes crinkling, and his eyes look back down into yours, basking in the excitement they’re giving off. 

“Do you… Wanna see more stuff I carved?” He asks quietly. You beam.

“Yes!” 

He takes your hand and leads you up his stairs, and when you make it to the top he walks you past a chest of drawers and into a room, the smell of wood loud in your nostrils, overwhelming your brain. Against the wall to your left is another shelf with carvings, and in front of you is a desk. To the right of the desk is a waist high shelving unit with various tools, paint bottles, brushes and toolboxes strewn on the multiple shelves. In the corner of the room to your right flank is a black velvet guitar case.  _ Of course, country boy… _

Joel releases your hand and stands in the doorway, surveying you with a small smile on his lips and amusement brightening his eyes. You approach the shelf carefully, walking with light steps as if you’re trying not to disturb the sleeping animal statues. Your eyes scan over a bear, a deer, a pig, a wolf and a rabbit, gaze boring into their intricate and carefully crafted detail. Your mouth slackens and your eyes flick to Joel, a surprised look on your face as you look over his work, and he shifts from foot to foot, fidgeting, uncomfortable under your sunny affection toward his work. 

“I really love them, Joel,” you say timidly, turning to him and trying to reel in your enthusiasm. He smiles at you, and behind his eyes you see his gears turning, but what he’s thinking about, you have no way to know. All you know is you want to hold him, and you do, arms slipping around his dense torso, head lolling against his broad chest. 

“You’re very skilled with your hands, Miller,” you whisper against him, and a chuckle emanates from his chest, sound vibrating against your ear. Only when you realize how dark his responding chuckle is do you realize what you just said sounded like. You blush against his chest, not wishing to be caught in the darkness of his gaze, but you feel it anyway, He slowly walks you backwards, and you lift up onto your tip toes so you don’t fall. The back of your knees hit the edge of his desk, jolting it against the wall with a hollow thud, and he pushes you away from him with his hands on your shoulders. His gaze on you is as dark as you expected. He pushes you down, and you sit on the desk before him, looking up into his eyes. 

“‘Skilled with my hands,’ is that right?’’ He asks, placing his hands on the edge of the desk just on the sides of your legs. You gulp, his tone slinking slowly down your spine, heating as it moves all the way to your core, where it throbs gently. He stares into your face, a cheshire cat grin showing you his teeth. His eyes never leave yours as his hands slowly slide over the peak of your legs, resting softly on the tops of your thighs, thumbs slipping to the inside where they rub small circles into the muscle there. You tense at the contact, and Joel notices your movement. His right hand creeps slowly up your thigh, thumb sliding more and more down the curvature of the inside of your thigh as he reaches your apex. When he does, he gently rubs his thumb down the zipper line of your pants to where the two separate seams intersect, applying pressure at the crossroads. The pressure is directly on your clit, and you mewl lightly and look away from his face, a blush roaring over your cheeks at how intense it is to watch his face while he does this to you. His left hand moves to cup your chin.

“Watch me,” he demands, and you follow his orders immediately, eyes looking back into his. He kicks his chair away from the table, the old wheels squeaking as it moves, and he slowly slinks down, taking a knee between your two legs. You look down at him, and his eyes never leave yours as his hands resume rubbing your thighs, moving slowly from your knees to your fly, where he gently undoes the button and zipper, all without looking away from you. You begin to pant, anticipation heating your body. He tugs gently at your pants, and you lift yourself up on your hands, allowing him to slide them down your legs. He removes your boots before pulling the leg over your ankles slowly, the cold air raising goosebumps on your skin upon contact. His rands reach around to your ass, where he shimmies you down toward the edge of the desk, so all your weight is on your tailbone, the hard wood of the table pressing against you.

Without looking away from you, he leans into your heat, still behind the cover of panties, and inhales deeply before pressing a feather light kiss to your clit. Your eyes twitch, lids flickering closed a few times at how dirty this display is. He moves slightly down to kiss against the damp spot in your panties, a satisfied moan leaving his lips when he feels how wet you are against his dry lips. You flush, embarrassed at how worked up he gets you from mere touch alone. You close your eyes and exhale shakily. Joel nips your thigh.

“What did I say?” He asks, a threat, question and reminder all in one, and the muscles within you shudder. You open your eyes again and look back down at him, and as reward he kisses the tender spot his teeth left in your thigh. You shiver, and Joel smiles up at you before going back to your cunt. He gently rubs his nose over your clit before attaching his lips around it, blowing hot air from his lungs through the cotton of your panties, burning against your clit. You hiss at the foreigin feeling and grip the edge of the desk for dear life. Your hips involuntarily buck against Joel’s face, and he tilts his head at you, asking what's up in his non verbal, sexy Joel way. You pant.

“Please,” you breathe out, the word hardly manifesting from your lips at the lack of air in your lungs. Joel chuckles against you before he hooks a finger in the material of your panties, sliding them away from your pussy and off to the side. His eyes leave yours for a second, wanting to get a good look at the mess he caused, and the intensity of the face he’s making at the slick dripping from you makes you choke on air. From this angle, you can see your arousal clearly, your clit swollen and needing attention. You can only imagine what you look like from Joel’s angle. You’re pulled from your thoughts by Joel and his tongue as it parts your lips and licks at your pooling arousal, his tongue slipping inside you, licking against your walls. You clench around his tongue, and his eyes burn up at you, burning into your own. Your lips part and you rake in oxygen, your head becoming fuzzy at the lack of blood flow to your brain, and one of your hands gently go to grasp and pet at the back of his head, fingers getting lost in his dark hair. 

His tongue retreats from you, opting instead to lick a slow, treacherous stripe right up the middle of you before gently gliding over your bud. You twitch, but you don't dare look away, and as Joel begins to slowly circle you with his tongue, you watch as the skin of your hood bunches up from the push of his tongue. He leans back for you, moving his nose out of the way of your view as he licks at you with the very tip of his tongue. The sight of him shifting your clit around like that, combined with the feeling of it nearly brings you to the edge, and you choke out a sob of pleasure. Joel notices this of course, eyes studying your face, and so he slowly sinks a finger into you. You greedily accept the digit, walls pulsing around his hand, and he leans forward again to suck your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking back and forth against the pull from his suckling. You shout in surprise at him, hand tightening a hold in his hair as his finger begins to curl against your spot, pulling you with a come hither motion. You hiss out a strangled noise as you build and build against Joel’s face, and you don’t have the capacity to care about how wrecked you look right now. Joel’s eyes never leave yours, and he watches as you buckle over when he picks up hispace, finger pumping you and tongue rubbing you, and very quickly it becomes too much. You tighten around his fingers, body tensing, ready to release

Joel’s left forearm shoots up to pin your hips to the table as you start cumming, the pressure of his arm making you unable to move to balance out the pleasure. You can't stop it, the orgasm is nearly endless since he robbed you of the ability to squirm, and when you’re done you collapse in a heap against the wall behind the desk, body limp and dripping off onto the floor. Joel’s face shines with your satisfaction, and he licks greedily at his lips before crudely wiping his mouth off. He lifts you gently from the desk, carrying you out through the first door and into another one, where he then gently lays you in his bed. You manage a look up at him, eyelids heavy from the volatility of your orgasm, and he kisses your forehead before you drift off into a wrecked sleep. 

  
  



	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait/the fact this chapter is a tad short everyone! Got a bad bit of the writers block+college work combo goin on. I hope you enjoy nonetheless, and I love you <3 thanks for being patient

When you wake, the sunset is starting orange in the sky, the last few rays of the day hitting your eyes through the tattered blinds of Joel’s windows. You blink hard, sleep making your eyes feel sticky, and once your vision clears, you lay peering at the floor on the opposite side of the bed from where Joel placed you. You must’ve shifted a ton. You sigh heavily, needing to take a few moments to move, but when you do you do a small shift up onto your forearms. As your head moves, your perspective shifts, and you see the sunlight hit something shiny on the floor near the bedside table. You cock your brows in confusion and slowly reach for the object, hand creeping around the dusty floor until the pads of your fingers skim across a small piece of what feels like photo paper. You grip the edge of the item and lift it, slowly flopping back onto the bed before squinting at the photo. 

For a good moment, you just stare blankly at it, your heart sinking very low in your body. On the tattered paper, wrinkling with age, is a picture of a much younger Joel, hair black and face free of the outbreak’s twenty years worth of lines. He looks carefree, so happy, beyond beautiful with his face bright and smiling as he rests his arm around the shoulders of a little girl. You smile. You like seeing Joel like this, before things turned into the way they are now. Your eyes move to the girl. Who could she be? A niece? She had Maria’s hair color, maybe she was her and Tommy’s daughter. Your heart sinks. Where is she now if that's the case. Your eyes trail over her young nose, clear skin and bright smile, cheering over her soccer trophy, but when your eyes meet hers, you immediately know; she’s Joel’s  _ daughter _ . 

You sit up abruptly in Joel’s bed and bring the photo closer to your eyes, raking them over the immortalized face of this little girl, and suddenly it makes so much sense. They have the same nose, the same eyes. Joel’s proud,  _ paternal _ smile, the crinkling in his eyes showing just how happy he is for her. As you study them, your chest aches. Not because he has a daughter, not because he didn’t tell you, but because this little girl is  _ not here.  _ She looks nothing like Ellie, hair color completely different, and you know this photo was taken pre-outbreak, so this girl would no longer be a  _ girl _ anymore, she would be a woman. She would be… around your age, you'd guess. 

She can’t be much younger than you in this picture. You were her senior by a few years, maybe around four or five. She looks to be a year or two younger than Ellie, but maybe the new world just aged Ellie’s looks more than old world living did to… her. Your chest burns. How should you be feeling right now? You can’t blame Joel for not telling you, losing your own child can’t be easy, and the night of the outbreaks flashes behind your eyes. Rylee’s small fingers gripping onto yours as the infected pull her from you. Her screams. The tears. Your brother. You feel bile rise in your throat, stomach cramping from emptiness, but you swallow it down again. No, you can’t be angry. You kept a painful memory from Joel, too.

You close your eyes for a long moment, hydration burning them since they’ve been open and staring for too long. You sit there for a while, eyes closed, thinking about the fact that Joel had a daughter, a real, blood related  _ daughter,  _ and you suddenly remember the fact he had an ex-wife. You should’ve assumed then that he might’ve had a kid, but then again, marriage doesn’t equal babies. Nothing equals babies for you. 

You recall your early years. You figured you were an average child, average height, build, etcetera. But you had started puberty a little later than all your friends. Maybe it was something in the water, who knows, but they all started their periods a year or two before you. You started yours at the beautiful age of twelve, and immediately you decided you  _ hated _ periods. Cramping. Bleeding. Heavy flow pads and super plus tampons. And the ungodly blood clots. One day you decided you’d had enough. At fourteen you begged your mother to take you to a doctor, and so she did. They did a bunch of exams on you, and they eventually found the cause of your pain. Several large ovarian cysts, non-cancerous, thankfully. Or more so not thankfully at all. While these were an easy fix, some minor surgery could remove them normally, they had resulted in one of your ovaries torsioning. It completely folded in on itself, and the lack of blood flow actually made the ovary completely useless, killing it off. Surgery took care of it, but your fertility plummeted, a whole fourth of your reproductive system gone in the blink of an eye. 

Your hand rests on the place that now houses a hardly visible scar on the left side of your lower gut, the only reminder you have that there was once an ovary there in your body. Doctors told you that you “might as well live life like someone completely infertile, your chances are  _ that _ low!” It stung, it stung a lot. You weren’t one of the girls at that age that knew they wanted kids, you were the opposite. You knew you were too young for that. You wanted to do too much living, a kid would put it off. You'd have one or two if and when you were ready. But hearing that you might never have that, to have your choice taken from you by your own body without your control was hurtful. You hated your body for years, and then suddenly when the outbreak happened, you hated it less. You could never birth a child into this world. You’d never want to. The constant danger, the lack of food. You shudder at the thought. You couldn't starve off your maternal instincts though. 

Acts of care became your love language. Throwing elaborate birthday parties, comforting people when they needed a shoulder to cry on. You cared for Rylee as if she was your own. Walked her to and from the bus, went to her school plays, cried at her kindergarten graduation.That became who you are, pushed deep down after the outbreak, yet it still resided within you. Whenever you see Ellie, it stirs, wriggling around in you when she smiles or laughs or cries. That was enough for you. Ellie was enough. You realize something.

Maybe Joel feels that same way. The pieces of your invisible puzzle snap into place. Its so clear now. He couldn’t let another daughter of his die. The thought brings a tear to your eyes. You know Ellie is upset, but in moments like these, when you sit and think about all you’ve lost, you’re grateful to Joel for choosing to not lose someone else. It feels selfish, you feel guilty for it, but you shake it off, crying with relief at the fact that Ellie is alive, you have someone new to dote over again. She isn’t Rylee, you don’t want her to be. She is someone wonderful and new and different in her own right, and you’re just happy she's alive. You glance back down at the photo, crying harder as you look over the girl’s face. Joel’s eyes inside a face of pale skin, a smile full of perfect teeth, and her handsome father next to her, smiling a smile of proud papa bear bliss. In your emotional moment, you don’t hear someone coming up the stairs and into the bedroom, you only see the shadow move into your view, and your head whips up to analyze the disturbance. 

Joel stands in the doorway to his bedroom, eyes lit up in a streak of setting sunlight, jaw tense, stance guarded. His eyes leave yours and they glance at the photo in your hand, almost maliciously. You flinch. 

“I found it on the floor,” you whisper, eyes never leaving his face, and Joel doesn’t move an inch. He just stares at you, long and cold. You despair within yourself.  _ Please Joel, talk to me.  _

“She’s beautiful,” you whisper, crawling onto your knees and facing him, gently holding the picture as if it's the most fragile thing you’ve ever touched, butterfly wings in your palms. “What’s her name?” You ask quietly. Joel sways, only for a moment, before walking toward the bed. He plops two plates of food that you somehow completely missed down on the medside table before he plops heavily onto the bed, facing away from you. You stiffen as his hands move to hold his face, elbows resting on his knees. He’s quiet, completely still like the dead, and you consider reaching out to rub his shoulders when he quietly speaks.

“Sarah,” his voice leaves his mouth in a breath. “Her name was Sarah.” 

Your heart cramps at the sound of his voice, and instinctively you place the picture on the bed and shimmy on your knees over to him, throwing an arm around his shoulders in what you hope is a comforting embrace. He’s still beneath you, body unmoving except for when his chest rises and falls with his breaths, but he doesn’t need to speak or move for you to know that he’s despairing. You hold him for a while, your face pressed into the side of his neck, nuzzling him. You’re the one to speak again. 

“I had a niece,” you begin, hoping your story will help make him feel like sharing his. “Her name was Rylee. She was like a daughter to me. She was killed the night of the outbreak by the infected.” Joel says nothing, just nods a bit in his place before sighing loudly, lifting his head from his hands and rubbing at his knees. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, Joel,” you remind him gently, not wanting to push him. He just shakes his head simply. 

“She died on outbreak night too,” he says quietly. “Shot by soldiers outside our town,” his voice is barely audible, but you can nearly hear that it's shaky, full of pain and the beginning of tears. Your heart lurches. You lean away from him, taking in the side of his face in the pale light of the bedroom. He’s pained, his side profile crunched up, eyes crinkling at the edges, brows furrowing, deep lines forming from his frown. He stares off at the floor, body rigid beneath your hand. 

“Tommy had come to get us, we were leavin’ when we got into a crash. She broke her leg. I was carryin’ her through back alleys and we ran into soldiers. They were killin’ people to try to contain the infection. He…” Joel trails off, voice breaking meagerly. You cringed, feeling his pain from here uncomfortably. “He shot us. I tried to turn but he… he got her. Instead of me. Shot her right in the side,” Joel buckles, body folding, hands knotting into his hair in pain and anger. You see his knuckles whiten at how hard he’s gripping his hair. Your hands reach for his, thumbs trying to soothe the angry skin of his hands, wanting him to release his hair before he just rips it out of his head. He relaxes a fraction under you, but he quickly lifts himself from the bed, moving to head for the door. 

“Joel,” you call after him, and he stops in his place for a second, wavering, off balance. “Don’t run from me. I’m here for you, remember? Please,” you beg him. Progress. Painful, but progress. He doesn’t move for what feels like an eternity, hulking mass brooding in the doorway, but he eventually turns slowly on his heel, taking back his seat on the edge of the bed. You gently run a hand across his shoulders, fingers rubbing against the rough fabric of his shirt, rubbing the tension from his shoulders. He sags beneath your touch. You want to hug him, kiss him and tell him that  _ it’s okay _ , but you don’t want to overwhelm him more than he already is. Your chest burns, an unreleased sob mounting in your ribs, but you choke it down. You get the impression that you losing it right now wouldn’t be the best thing. 

The two of you sit in silence, thick and suffocating, until you decide to speak again.

“I’m sorry,” your voice is barely a whisper. Joel doesn’t say anything in response, he just moves his hand onto your knee, rubbing his thumb across your joint lovingly.  _ Thank you,  _ his thumb paints non-verbally against your skin. You rest your face against his shoulder, nuzzling your cheekbone into him. Silence; sad, reminiscent silence. Broken only when your stomach lets out a loud, hollow growl, demanding the now cooling food on the bedside table. You cringe at yourself, but Joel’s shoulders move in a chuckle, and so you start to laugh with him. You reach over to the table, grab the food, and hand him his. You both eat happily, a weight having seemingly been lifted from your shoulders with the day’s painful admittances. As painful as it was to both hear and admit the things that have happened to you both, you’re grateful for the chance to open up, and for Joel’s opening up to you. Closer and closer, every day. He’s genuinely trying for you, listening to what you said you needed from him, and your heart swells as you bite hungrily into your sandwich. 

Progress. 

  
  



	19. Update!

hey everyone <3

thanks so much for enjoying the chapter and being patient with me!

sorry that the update is late, I had an upper endoscopy (they put me under anesthesia and put a small tube with a camera inside my throat to check my esophagus, stomach and upper intestines!) and I'm super drained after that. Im hoping to get a chapter by Sunday night for you, then hopefully I should resume the promised new schedule as normal. Propofol is one hell of a drug...

here's a funny story to tide you over.

Im in the prep room, they put an IV in my arm, and the anesthesiologist puts some anesthesia in the IV to help calm me down and get me ready for the rest of the anesthesia. He says it's propofol.

My stupid ass: "like... like the Michael Jackson drug...? am I gonna be like Michael Jackson?" 

get it? cause his doctor made him od on propofol and die -_- 

happy Friday <3


End file.
